


Road to Nowhere

by rougefox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Arya is kind of messed up in the head, Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, Canon Divergence - The Battle of the Blackwater, F/M, First Time, Gendrya - Freeform, Post - A Clash of Kings, SanSan from Arya POV, Sex, Spoilers for Book 3 - A Storm of Swords, Timeline What Timeline, Unintentional Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 56
Words: 106,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7099930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rougefox/pseuds/rougefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya is traveling with the Brotherhood Without Banners when The Hound is captured. After his Trial by Combat he kidnaps her and promises to take her to her family, only not the member she expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Peach

**Author's Note:**

> This is only the second time I've posted a fanfic, but the community on here is amazing and has really encouraged me to share.
> 
> This is set during A Storm of Swords, and follows the misadventures of Arya after she meets up with the Hound, newly escaped from Kingslanding during the Battle of the Blackwater. 
> 
> Arya is 14 years old, Gendry16, Sansa 16 and Sandor 28.
> 
> Please excuse any typos or grievous sins against the English language.

 

 

 

 

“Why did you say that?” Arya shot Gendry a look. “You’re not my brother!”

 

“You’re right,” he had a sour, almost hurt look on his face. “I’m too low born for m’lady.”

 

Arya fumed. They were sitting at a table in the middle of a brothel having yet another argument about her birth status. The man who Gendry just chased off had thought she was a prostitute, she wondered what he would have done if she had told him she was the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell.

 

_Probably not believe it or run off._

Arya stared at Gendry, his eyes were so maddeningly distracting sometimes. And his stupid black hair needed to be brushed out of his face.

 

“That’s not what I meant!” she spat.

 

“Go away and leave me in peace _my lady,”_ Gendry sneered and took a long drink off his wine. “Maybe I'll go find that brunette and ring her bell!”

 

Arya wanted to slap him so hard.

 

“Stupid bullheaded jackass!” She mumbled before she stomped up the stairs to the sleeping room they were sharing with the outlaw group, The Brother Hood Without Banners. She shredded the lacy dress the prostitutes had dressed her in after her bath and pulled her tunic over her head.

 

It seemed to her the only people who gave two shits about her lineage were the ones trying to use her to get money out of her family and Gendry. The Brotherhood without Banners claimed to be the former, but were obviously not very motivated as they had no problem with her fighting in their skirmishes or letting her come with them to brothels. Gendry had known since they had traveled together with The Nights Watch recruits, but hadn’t made a big deal of it till she had flowered at Harrenhall.

 

It had been a humiliating experience; her septa and had told her what to expect, but never really explained how messy and painful it would be. Arya ended up going to one of the castle bed warmers for help, a girl about her age who had thankfully kept her secret as at the time she was still posing as a boy.

 

Afterward she went and sat on the bench in the blacksmith hut feeling absolutely wretched. Nobody told her how painful it would be, that it would make her want to squirm and scream like a fox caught in a hunter’s trap. If she thought for one second gnawing off the most painful part of her body would give her relief, she would have.

 

Gendry asked her repeatedly why she was so sulky and angry (apparently she was being more so than usual) when she blurted out, “I have my moonblood, okay?!”

 

She stomped off because she couldn’t stand the stupid look that had blossomed on his face.

 

It was a week before she felt like she could face him. When she brought him his lunch, he slipped her a bundle wrapped in a dirty cloth.

 

“Don’t open it here,” he had told her softly.

 

That night sitting by one of the cooking fires she unwrapped the gift. It had been a beautiful finely crafted dagger. It was simple, it made up for the lack of finery by being wickedly sharp. She nicked her finger when she tested the blade. She later used it to cut the throat of one of the guards as they made their escape.

 

 

A year later, sitting in a brothel half a world away from Harrenhall, Arya pulled the dagger from her belt and tested the edge. It had grown dull from use but could still cut flesh if she needed it to. In her frustration with the dagger’s maker she threw it at the wall; the point stuck in the wood. Slightly impressed with herself, she wretched it out of the wood and returned it to its sheath before hanging her belt on a hook on the wall.

 

Arya flopped down on the bed that dominated the room. It was large enough to sleep ten people and she tried to convince herself that the sheets had been changed since the last patrons used it.

 

She pulled her pillow over her head to drown out the noises seeping in from the other rooms. The moans and laughter of the other customers tied knots in her stomach. She took a few breaths and started her prayer; “Queen Cersei, King Joffrey, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Dunsen, Raff the Sweetling, Polliver…” _Gods, why does Gendry have to be so fucking stupid?!_

Arya sat up and slammed her fist into her pillow. A few sad chicken feathers shot out a busted seam and fluttered behind the head board. Feeling slightly vindicated she laid down and finished, “The Tickler, the Hound, and The Mountain.”

 

She closed her eyes and but sleep did not come. She rolled over on her side away from the door and sighed. A moment later the door opened letting in the laughter and music from the common room before it shut again. She felt the bed dip and the sound of shoes hitting the floor. Someone stretched out beside her. She felt the person roll over, so close she feel their breath on the back of her neck, hot and smelling of sweet wine. In the faint moonlight she could see a hesitant hand hovering over her arm before it fell back onto the bed in reconsideration. The mattress shift again as the person rolled over.

 

“Good night Arya,” Gendry whispered.

 

Arya clinched her eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.

 

_Stupid bull._

_***_

 

It was the baying of hounds that drug Arya out of her wolf dreams. She sat up and rubbed the grit from the corners of her eyes. Gendry was stirring next to her. Sometime during the night she had scooted over to press her back flush with his. Lem Lemon Cloak was snoring on her other side.

 

Arya crawled over Gendry, purposefully putting a knee into his ribs to get to the window.

 

Below her the town square was swimming with a motley of barking dogs, a dozen riders waded their way through.

 

“We got you, you Lannister bastard!” One of the men announced.

 

Arya looked down into the square and felt giddy.

 

“Lannister?” Gendry joined her at the window, his bare shoulder bumping into hers. He was wearing only breeches; his bare chest was well muscled and covered with a fine layer of soft black hair. For a second Arya lost her capability to form words.

 

“Did they catch the Kingslayer?” he asked, squinting and rubbing his hand through his silly curly black hair.

 

“No,” she whispered. “Better. Much better.”

 

Down in the square a man was tethered to one of the horses by a long rope that ended in a noose around his neck. He stood sullen with his hands tied behind his back. The town’s folk had come out and were throwing dung and rotten food at him, but he never flinched.

 

Lem joined them at the window and whined, “What’s all this about then?”

 

He stopped short, taking in the scene below him.

 

“Where’s Greenbeard?” he asked evenly.

 

“Abed with Tansey,” Tom O’ Seven said, head still buried in his pillow.

 

“Best find him. Archer to,” Lem’s eyes never left the man in the square. “The Mad Huntsman came back with the Hound.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The artwork was done by Joanna Stiehl


	2. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hound's trial by combat with Beric Dondarrion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the encouragement. I seriously love you all!
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is a quick retelling of Arya VI in A Storm of Swords. It might feel rushed at times, it's because Arya is experiencing something traumatic and she's not processing everything. George RR Martin owns everything, I'm just here for the ride.
> 
> Please excuse all errors, I spent the day in the most boring work training ever and my brain is not so smrt right now.

_“Burn in hell!”_ Arya screamed. Gendry’s arms were like iron around her middle, pinning her arms against her side. No matter how much she thrashed or squirmed around on the cave floor he wouldn’t let go.

 

 _“You’re guilty! You killed Mycha! You killed him!”_ she screamed till her voice cracked. She had to stop to cough up the soot and dirt that had gotten into her mouth.

 

The Hound sat a few meters away, his arm burnt from wrist to elbow. He was sobbing like a baby.

 

 ***

 

Arya thought the gods had answered her prayers when the Hound appeared literally right out her window. The Brotherhood Without Banners talked the Mad Huntsman out of shoving him in a crow cage and instead brought him to the weird cave in the middle of nowhere for judgement.

 

Arya found it unnerving how quiet the Hound was through the trip. She remembered him as someone who always had a cutting word or sharp comment or even a growl for people he thought were beneath him. The first time he made any noise was in the cave as The Mad Huntsman related the story of his capture.

 

“The dogs picked up the scent all the way to his camp,” The Mad Huntsman explained. “He had just finished a bath in the river when we found him.”

 

“The blood of the innocent does not wash off so easily, dog,” Tom Sevenstrings spat at him.

 

“These are saddlebags, where's his horse?” asked Thoros of Myr looking over the items they had pillaged from the Hound’s camp.

 

“A girl, his bed warmer rode off with it,” the Mad Huntsman replied. “Two of my men tried to grab it but she kicked one in the face and the horse bit the other.”

 

The Hound let out a horrible barking laugh.

 

“Do you think that's funny?” The Mad Huntsman shouted at him.

 

“Oh yes,” the Hound replied in a voice like gravel, a horrible grin on his ugly burnt face.

 

“Who was she?” demanded Lem Lemoncloak.

 

The Hound turned to him, “I don't know. Some bitch who let me mount her for the promise of a couple coppers.”

 

“She was someone’s daughter, someone's sister, may perhaps someone's wife you filthy animal!”

 

“I'm sure she is,” he rasped.

 

They started the trial then; listing off the people his brother and his men had killed. He managed to dodge all their accusations till Arya feared they might set him free.

 

She sprinted from Gendry’s side before he could catch her and shouted a crime she knew he was guilty of;

 

“You killed Mycha! You rode down my friend!”

 

The Hound squinted through the gloom at her. She saw his eyes grow wide and his jaw drop.

 

“Arya?”

 

She took a step back and he chuckled.

 

“Little sister, you’re supposed to be dead!”

 

Caught off balance by his sudden recognition she spat out, “No! You are!”

 

Then she walked back to Gendry’s side feeling incredibly stupid.

 

Beric Dondarrion stepped forth and asked the Hound if he had killed the butcher’s boy. The Hound shrugged it off as an order from Robert backed up by her sister.

 

Arya found her voice, “Sansa’s a liar!”

 

The big man looked at across the cave and shrugged his big shoulders. He smirked at her and she felt her skin crawl.

 

Lord Beric declared that since there wasn’t enough evidence either way, the Hound would be judged with a trial by combat. At first she thought he was insane; both he and Thoros of Myr had seen the Hound fight before, they knew what he was capable of. They gave him is sword and shield, and Lord Beric stripped himself of his armor.

 

Everyone but Arya, Gendry and the Hound joined in a prayer to the red god, then she watched in awe when the flames leapt up Lord Beric’s sword.

 

“Is that wildfire?” she asked Gendry remembering when he told her how his old blacksmith master had complained about Thoros’s flaming sword.

 

“No, this is something else entirely. It’s …,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the blade.

 

“… magic,” she finished.

 

The Hound looked scared, Arya felt better.

 

The two warriors danced around each other, Lord Beric’s flaming sword left ghosts of light as it swept through the gloom. The sword glowed brighter with every slash, Lord Beric was able to drive the Hound around the room. The Hound’s shield had caught fire at one point and the big man had to hack it off his arm. Finally he was driven to his knees.

 

“You have him!” Arya screamed. “Kill him!”

 

 _Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!_ The chant bounced off the cave walls, no voice louder than hers.

 

The Hound went in for one last blow. In a fit of desperation he swung his sword over his head and brought it down with all his strength. Lord Beric went to block it easily, but the flaming sword snapped like a twig and he was nearly cut in two.

 

Arya saw the Hound roll in the dirt to smoother the flames on his arm and she lunged at him.

 

Gendry managed to tackle her a few meters from the big man and held her as she screamed and thrashed.

 

“Arya, it’s over,” he said into her ear. “It’s over, it’s going to be alright.”

 

Her energy spent she went limp in his arms. She could feel the tears leaking down her dirty face, but it was the Hound who was sobbing.

 

“Please, you have to let me go…. I don’t know where…. needs me….. _Oh gods little bird, I’m so sorry!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise a longer chapter next time.


	3. The Hayloft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds a week's worth of peace with Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just some Gendrya moments. You can skip to the end if that's not your thing.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, Gendry is 16 and Arya 14. Neither of them knows what they are doing.

Arya sat miserably, listening to the birds beginning to chirp as the sun rose.  She hadn't felt this miserable since the Brotherhood let the Hound leave a week ago. She heard boots on the forest floor behind her.

 

“I’ll go back, okay?!” she snapped not looking over her shoulder. She wasn't ready to face Gendry after they…. almost did that. Her eyes burned in frustration and shame.

 

_Sansa would have known what to do; she and Jeyne Pool always knew what to say to boys._

 

The footsteps got closer.

 

Arya rubbed her eyes and snarled, “Give me a minute! I'll be right there!”

 

A huge hand clamped over her mouth as a strong arm pinned her arms to her sides. She was lifted high up in the air.

 

***

 

For the longest time the only noise in the cave was the Hound's begging and Arya's wretched, anger induced hiccups. Gendry had pulled her off the floor, but his arms never relaxed.

 

He held her in his lap and whispered “It's going to be okay.” Over and over again.

 

She sat on top of his legs, tears running down her face, soot and grit in her throat and the damn hiccups wouldn't stop.

 

The Hound was babbling in pain as one of the women wrapped his burnt arm in a linen bandage.

"Please, she's all alone…. I promised her I would….. I need to….. Just let me go….”

 

Arya took a breath and screamed, “ _You burn in hell!”_

Then she hiccuped miserably.

 

“He already has,” Lord Beric said.

 

Arya and Gendry froze in awe.

 

_He was dead! The Hound cut him almost in half!_

“He's earned his life,” Lord Beric announced leaning on Thoros of Myr. His tunic was torn across his body. He turned to the Hound.

 

“The Lord of Light has a plan for you, Sandor Clegane. Do not waste his mercy. You are free to go.”

 

The Hound finally regained his composure.

 

“Fuck you dead man! Fuck you and your buggering flaming sword!”

 

 

The Brotherhood took him a couple miles from the cave and let him go. They let him keep the stuff in his saddle bags, but took almost all his gold he won at the Hand’s Tourney.  Thoros of Myr instructed Lem Lemoncloak to give him five gold dragons and made him swear not to hurt the girl who had stolen his horse. Gendry later heard the Hound told Lem if the girl was hurt he knew exactly who was at fault. Then he made some nasty assumptions about Lem’s mother before walking away.

 

***

Arya wanted to continue to rage at the injustice of it all, but she was spent and fell asleep the second she hit her bedroll. Lord Beric had talked to Greenbeard and they decided it was time to take her to Riverrun. Greenbeard told her to prepare to leave the next morning.

 

She dreamed about wolves. Sleek and fast, howling into the night. When she awoke, she found that Gendry had curled up next to her and wrapped his arm chastely around her middle.

 

 

The next night he did it again. Then again the night after that. On the fourth night when he had bed down with her, she snuggle up facing him. She enjoyed the feeling of his body so close and how right it felt against hers.  On the fifth night she turned over and kissed him. He looked bewildered but kissed her back.

 

She went through her day smiling.  At night she still said her death prayer, only now she did it in her head as to not disturb the man curled up next to her.

 

On the sixth night the Brotherhood stayed at an inn. While the men slept, Arya convinced Gendry to go out to the hayloft in the stables with her. They kissed and touched each other over their clothes. They slept in the straw, giddy and shy, arms around each other, legs tangled. The next morning Arya decided she wanted them to do more. After such a long time of promising, the Brotherhood were actually heading in the direction of Riverrun. She knew she would have only a small amount of time left with Gendry.

 

On the seventh night, the Brotherhood celebrated after finding and hanging some members of the Brave Companions. The ale and wine flowed freely and by the time they could slip away, they were more than a little tipsy.

 

Like as before, they snuck into the hayloft and started playfully groping each other over their clothes. Arya smiled after Gendry kissed her. She sat back in a crouch and pulled her shirt over her head. His eyes grew wide staring at her chest.

 

“Now you,” she whispered.

 

Gendry sat up and pulled his tunic over his head. She ran her fingers over his muscles lovingly, feeling how soft the black hair was there. He reached up and gently cupped her breasts in his big hands. She shivered, his hands were cold, but felt so right.

 

They kissed and Arya pressed her chest to his. He tasted like cider and she liked it. She reached down and felt his cock through his breeches. She had woken up to its hardness before, but now she knew it was because of her and it was exciting. She pushed him down in the straw playfully. She climbed on top and started rubbing her whole body against him. He bent his head back and moaned her name. It made her smile.

 

Arya's heart beat so fast she thought she would faint. She had been around enough camp followers and bed warmers in the last year that she had a good idea how this was supposed to work. She gently snaked her hand down to the front of his breeches. She slowly undid the laces.

 

_I want this. He wants this. We can do this!_

When his laces were loose enough, she slipped her hand under the fabric and touched his cock. Gendry’s whole body jumped.

 

“Your hands are cold,” he whispered and they both laughed.

 

“I'll try to warm them up,”she whispered

 

Arya took him in hand and began to stroke it.

 

Gendry moaned and groped her chest.

 

_We're going to do this !_

Suddenly his breath became labored and he started thrusting into her hand.

 

“Gods!”

 

Gendry shook under her and she felt something thick and sticky coat her hand.

 

He laid there panting like a spent horse. He whispered her name.

 

She cleaned her hand off on his handkerchief and laid down next to him. She put her head on his chest and listen to his heart. He kissed her on the top of her head before falling asleep.

 

Arya felt like she had missed something, but was still amazed at the whole experience. She curled up next to him and slept warm and happy.

 

Shortly before dawn, Gendry got up to make water. When he came back to their spot in the hay he had a horrified look on his face.

 

Arya smiled at him sweetly and rubbed the grit from her eyes.

 

She tried to reassure him she was okay with what they had done the night before, “Good morning. Do you want to pick up where we left off?"

 

It must have been the wrong thing to say because he really began to panic, “I almost deflowered the King in the North‘s sister on a pile of straw.”

 

He started pulling on his tunic, then searched for his boots. His eyes were wide and beads of sweat formed on his brow.

 

“Oh gods your brother is going to take my head!” he cringed.

 

Arya stood up and pulled her tunic over her head.

 

“Gendry, calm down,” she pleaded.

 

“No! This was a big mistake! I.... we should not have done this!” he said pushing his hair out of his eyes.

 

Gendry looked her in the face and said,“ I'm sorry!”

 

He put on his boots and left the stable. Arya sat in the hayloft for a long time staring at the place where they had slept together the night before.

 

***

 

Arya couldn't stand the idea of facing anyone so she walked down to the creek to clear her head. She secretly hoped it was Gendry who had followed her, but the hand over mouth and the arm throwing her over the saddle of a huge black horse belonged to the burned man with the voice like falling stone.

 

“You're not going back wolf-bitch. Your family wants you so you’re coming with me."

 


	4. The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hound kidnaps Arya and promises to be back for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some questions answered.
> 
> Double chapter posting!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The morning was full of warnings;

 

"You try to run away again, I'll tie your feet together!"

 

"You try to bite me again, I'll gag you!"

 

"You try to hit me in the balls again, I'll break both your hands!"

 

Arya had kicked and screamed from the second the Hound threw her over his saddle then mounted up behind her. The horse was going too fast for her to safely jump off, so she tried attacking him. This plan yielded limited results.

 

The last time she tried to escape, she managed to get off the horse and run, while the horse slowed to cross a stream. Unfortunately he caught up with her easily.

 

The Hound pinned to her the forest floor and tied her hands and feet together before rolling her up in his cloak and lashing her to the back of his horse.

 

“Why don’t you just kill me like you did Mycha!” she screamed at him.

 

“You think that thought hasn't crossed my mind wolf-bitch?” he growled at her, his burnt face contorted in rage. “I promised I'd be back by dark, and your bullshit has already put me behind!”

 

“You can't reach Kingslanding by dark from here you ugly fuck!” she wiggled in her bonds.

 

“Where do you think I'm taking you wolf-bitch?”

 

“Back to the Queen and Joffrey!”

 

“Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Queen, fuck Kingslanding” the Hound laughed. “I'm taking you to your kin and you've delayed me enough.”

 

His fist connected with the back of her head and the world went black.

 

***

 

“Good Gods little bird, how the hell did you catch this big bastard?”

 

“It got in the snare and ate the rabbit I caught. It's horrible. I was just so mad, I killed it with a stick!”

 

Arya heard The Hound chuckle. Then there was a sickening, wet sucking noise.

 

“Oh Gods, I'm going to be sick!”

 

“Get away from camp then, you know better.”

 

Arya heard shuffling in the forest.

 

She wiggled her hands to get the feeling back in her fingers. She tested her bonds and found them loose enough to slip out off. She felt the heat of the campfire on her back. She could move her legs.

 

_I could bolt. He wouldn't know till I was well in the trees._

“Oh good, the wolf-bitch is awake!”

 

_Shit!  
_

 

"Get over here and help me put this over the fire.”

 

She rolled over and pulled herself up to her feet. The Hound had a skinned snake wrapped around a stick. “Set this on the fire.”

 

“Where are we?” she asked taking a step closer.

 

“I told you, I was taking you to your family,” he said simply, the burnt side of his mouth twitched.

 

He waved the snake at her. 

 

“Now put this over the fire so we can eat tonight.”

 

Arya snapped up the stick and put it on a crude spit to cook. It hissed and popped, there was a black stew pot underneath it full of water, tubers and wild onions.

 

She took stock of her surroundings; they were outside a small cave surrounded by dense forest. She could hear the sound of a small stream and the trees were so close together she could barely make out any stars. The Hound’s big black horse was grazing on the small patches of plants that littered the forest floor just beyond the fire's light.

 

“Where is your bed warmer?” she blurted out.

 

His head snapped around, “What are you talking about wolf-bitch?”

 

“I heard the Brotherhood saying you had a girl with you and she stole your horse. I heard you talking to someone, so where is she?”

 

The Hound turned back to the food over the fire and said, “ She'll be right back, she gets sick sometimes, but she's fine.”

 

He shot her a look, “Don't call her my bed warmer where she can hear.”

 

Arya sat in front of the fire. After a day slung across a horse, the heat felt good on her stiff muscles.

 

“Are you going to tie me up in your cloak again?” she hissed.

 

“Won't need to” he smiled at her. The Hound’s smile looked grotesque and unnatural. “Your not going to run off, wolf-bitch.”

 

_I'm still going to kill you._

 

“Arya?”

 

She turned at her name and her jaw dropped.

 

“Sansa?”

 

 The last time she had seen her sister was at their father’s execution. Sansa had been radiant in a Southern style gown with her long red locks twisted in braids on top of her head. Her skin had been pale and flawless, only turning blotchy and red with anguish after their father lost his head.

 

The Sansa who nowstood before her was taller than she remembered, with a thin face that sported freckles and a sun burn across her cheeks. Her hair was shoulder length, frizzy and dirty. She wore a ragged skirt, an oversized tunic and a quilted apron that covered her from chest to knees.

 

She looked like a swineherd's daughter.

 

Sansa ran to her sister and hugged her head to her chest.

 

“Arya, your hair is so short!”

 

Arya could barely breathe.

 

“Gods Sansa! Your boobs are huge!”

 

The Hound fell over, the wood was filled with his horrible barking laugh.


	5. The Campfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tells Arya how she ended up in the woods with the Hound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, real life got in the way.
> 
> Still no beta, please be kind :)

“Joffrey was a monster.”

 

“I could have told you that, stupid.”

 

Arya sat next to her sister as she tended to the food. The Hound was across the fire, stretched out and dozing a far distance from the flames.

 

Sansa rotated the snake and stirred the vegetables before sitting back cross legged to clear the smoke from her face.

 

“He was worse than anyone could imagine,” she said smoothing her apron. “He never hit me himself; he always had the Kingsguard to do it.”

 

“What about him?” Arya asked as softly as she could.

 

“I've never laid a finger on your sister, wolf-bitch,” she heard from the other side of the fire. The Hound yawned and stretched.

 

“Is the food ready yet?” he grumbled.

 

Sansa pointed to her bottom lip. “After father's execution Joffrey made me go and stare at his head dipped in pitch on a spike on the wall. When I told him that Robb would bring me his head, he had Meryon Trant hit me and spit my lip.”

 

Arya heard the Hound make a noise on the other side of the fire.

 

“Sandor saved me from shoving Joffrey into the moat.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be telling me why I should like him,” Arya spat.

 

Sansa chuckled. She pulled up the hem of her skirt to her calf. There were thin white lines crisscrossing her flesh.

 

“When Robb won at Oxcross, Joffrey had me stripped and beaten with the flat of a sword. Sandor gave me his cloak to cover up.”

 

Sansa smoothed her skirts and continued, “When his uncle arrived, Joffrey stopped beating me at court and instead had me dragged to his rooms.”

 

She sighed, “Sandor stopped all of that. I don't know how, but he got Joffrey to leave me alone.”

 

Arya wasn't listening. She was staring at the big man dozing on the other side of the fire.

 

_I could smash his skull in with a rock when he falls asleep. If Sansa can handle that nasty fuck of a horse, we could ride to Riverrun…._

Sansa snapped her fingers in front of Arya’s nose to draw her attention.

 

“Arya listen to me!”

 

Her sister grasped her chin and forced her face up. “Sandor got me out of that awful place. We left in the chaos of Stannis’ invasion of Blackwater bay.”

 

Arya looked into Sansa's face for the first time in almost two years. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and her face was thin from hard travel. Her big blue eyes were haunted. Arya had seen unspeakable things at Harrenhall, she wondered what was keeping her sister up at night.

 

Sansa stirred the vegetables again and finished, “We tried to head to Winterfell but it’s been slow going. We went west, then north to try and avoid Lannister forces. Then we heard what Theon did and we had to double back.”

 

Arya rubbed her nose with the back of her hand. She had never felt one way or the other about Theon Greyjoy. All she really remembered about him was his unwavering pride in being Iron Born and humping anything that would stand still long enough.

 

“So are you going to Riverrun?” she asked. “Or are you headed to the Twins for Uncle Edmure’s wedding?” She had no idea what was closer.

 

Sansa looked at the Hound. He sat up, “I think that snake is done, little bird.”

 

Even out in the middle nowhere Sansa tried to be a gracious hostess. She took the snake off the fire then divided the meat into equal portions then bite sized pieces. The Hound skewered a chunk of meat on the end of his knife and blew on it. Arya picked up a piece and tossed it back and forth between her hands till it was cool enough to shove in her mouth. She was sure Sansa would be horrified at her manners, till she watched her sister eat. Sansa was grabbing chunks of meat off the steaming stick and shoving them into her mouth as fast as she could. When her portion was done she licked the grease off her fingers then looked at the Hound. He sighed and stabbed another chunk of meat.

 

“Go ahead, just don't lick the stick”, he rasped defeated. Sansa dug into what was left of the Hounds portion with fervor.

 

Arya wolfed down her part before Sansa could attack it.

 

After the food was finished and the fire burned low, Sansa and the Hound began unpacking the bedding.

 

Arya yawned. In spite of her little forced nap on the Hound’s horse, she was quite exhausted.

 

Sansa took her bedroll and a huge, scratchy wool blanket and made a nest for her and Arya. The Hound stretched out on his own bedroll under his cloak on the other side of the fire.

 

Arya tried to curl up close to her sister, but Sansa scooted an arm’s length away.

 

“I'm filthy and I smell,” she explained.

 

Arya sighed. Only Sansa would complain about being dirty while on the run in the woods.

 

She waited till she was sure the Hound was asleep before grilling her sister:

 

“Is he going to ransom us?”

“Has he touched you?”

“What is he after?”

“What did you promise him to get out of Kingslanding?”

 

“Arya,” she sister sighed in exasperation. “Sandor and I have…. a kind of agreement-“

 

“That's another thing,” Arya interrupted. “What’s this “Sandor _”_ shit? He's “The Hound” or Clegane.”

 

She grinned in the dark, ”C’mon Sansa, where's your proper conversational etiquette?”

 

Sansa swatted her on the arm. Arya giggled.

 

“Seriously though,” she continued after regaining her composure. “What is this agreement between you and _Sandor.”_

 

Sansa sighed in exasperation.

 

“He promised to keep me safe,” she said softly.

 

Arya yawned. She was losing the conversation due to her exhaustion.

 

“What does he get in return?”

 

“I promised to keep him happy,” her sister whispered.

 

***

 

Deep in the night Arya thought she heard people talking. It sounded like her sister and the Hound, but she could have been dreaming.

 

“Sansa, why didn't you tell her?”

 

“I can't, not yet. She still wants to kill you for something that happened over a year ago, could you imagine what she would do….”

 

“I'm fully aware of what she is capable of, but you…. we can't hide this like we did in Kingslanding. I'm surprised she hasn't figured it out already. “

 

“I will tell her. “

 

“I give her till breakfast tomorrow.”

 

“Sandor please let me enjoy some peace with her. I remember what you told me about what happened in that cave. She's still mad at me to.”

 

“I'm sleeping in my armor, little bird.”

 

Arya heard the big man sigh.

 

“She was right about one thing though, your boobs are huge.”

 

“Sandor!”

 

Then she heard the Hound’s barking laugh.


	6. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya joins Sansa and The Hound in their voyage to meet up with the Stark family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who stuck with this story, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!

The next morning, Arya was drawn out of her wolf dreams by someone grasping her arm. For a second she thought it was Gendry, only Gendry never shook her like a rag doll and shouted, “Get up wolf-bitch!”

 

She rolled to sit up and tried to take a swing at the Hound. Her aim was off and he scoffed at her. Sansa shot him a dirty look as she brought her some bread to break her fast.

 

They broke camp and the Hound boosted Sansa up on the big horse then Arya in front of her. Sansa sat sideways on the saddle.

 

“My hips hurt from straddling the horse all day,” she explained.

 

The Hound pulled his cloak over his head low enough to cover his burns. Then lead the horse out of the clearing and onto a faint game trail.

 

His rabid nightmare of a horse was aptly named Stranger. It was completely docile when his master walked next to him. It even tolerated Sansa when she dismounted, but it seemed to believe Arya was there to torment. It tried to kick her the second she had dismounted, even tried to bite her when the Hound wasn’t paying attention. In the silence of the forest she imagined how satisfying it would be to roast a ground Stranger sausage over a fire.

 

Arya spent the morning telling Sansa about her misadventures leaving Kingslanding and traveling with the Nights Watch recruits. She left out the part about killing the stable boy. She didn't know how Sansa would react.

 

It was slow going because they had to stop every twenty minutes for Sansa to go in the bushes.

Sometimes she wretched, sometimes she just had to make water.

 

“Is she okay?”

 

The Hound fished an apple out of one of the saddle bags and took a big bite.

 

“I told you, she gets sick sometimes,” he said with a mouth full of apple. “She’s fine.”

 

“You should really take her a Maester,” Arya said, doubting The Hound’s medical expertise.

 

“Well, point out the first Maester you see out in this forest and we’ll ask him to take a look at your sister.”

 

Sansa rejoined them looking green. She looked up at the Hound and asked, “Are there anymore apples?”

 

“Last one,” he said and handed what was left with a sigh. Sansa scarfed it down practically eating the core.

 

“You done? Or would you like me to boil up the saddle?” he grumbled.

 

“Piss off” her sister sneered at him.

 

Arya stared in awe. She'd never seen Sansa so unkempt, so mismannered and crude. It almost made her giggle, to think how their mother would react to her perfect daughter dressed in rags with dirty hair, swearing and eating like a dog.

 

 _Or maybe a bird, dogs chewed their food_.

 

“Oh gods, Sansa, I remember when you wouldn't say shit if you had a mouth full of it,” Arya taunted her.

 

“You can join him!” Sansa snapped and Arya laughed. The Hound chuckled and pulled his cloak back in place.

 

The rest of the day Arya spent bickering with the Hound over the effectiveness of water dancing. After an hour they stopped with specific subject points and started insulting each other personally. Arya was enjoying herself immensely.

 

Sansa (who was sweating even under the cool forest canopy) would interject every so often, by telling them both to “shut the hell up!”

 

This respite would last for a few moments before one of them would bite out a comment in hopes of getting in the last word. Sansa would then demand a halt to go pee in the woods, or eat something.

 

 ***

 

Arya had forgotten about her sister’s deal with the Hound till later that night. She had fallen asleep back to back with Sansa, the scratchy wool blanket wrapped around them both. It had been warm and comfortable. Arya had found simple joy in just having her sister close.

Soon they would be at Riverrrun or the Twins and the Hound would have whatever he wanted out of this arrangement and be gone. She wondered if Robb would let her lower the portcullis behind him as he rode away on his ill-tempered shit of a horse.

 

Arya was woken up in the dead of the night by the sounds of grunting. At first she thought it was some wild animal, till she realized her sister wasn't lying next to her. Arya rolled over slowly, a knot of dread in the pit of her belly praying to the gods the noise was from a wild animal.

 

The fire had burned down to coals. The moon was high enough that she could make out the figures on the other side of the fire.

 

Sansa was lying on her side facing the fire. The Hound’s cloak was pulled up to her chin; his big filthy hand was clamped over her mouth. Her eyes where shut and her whole body was jerking back forth. Arya could hear her sister let out squealing noises around the Hound’s hand. She couldn't see him, but she could hear him in the dark; she had no doubt what they were doing.

 

_Robb’s going to take his head. I'm going to bring Robb his head. I'm going to bring Robb his head with his cock and balls shoved in his ugly fucking mouth!_

Arya shut her eyes till she heard a low groan and a satisfied sigh. She could hear Sansa talking to him a low whisper.

 

The Hound replied, “Don't go too far little bird.” She heard the bushes rustle and she opened her eyes.

 

The Hound was sitting cross legged on his bed roll. He stretched and yawned loudly like the big ugly animal he was.

 

 _At least he still has his breeches on_.

 

Sansa returned from the bushes and sat next to him. They whispered for a time then they curled up together on his bed roll. Soon The Hound was snoring. Arya rolled over and pulled the scratchy wool blanket over her head. She tried not to sob. After everything she’d been through, it was nothing compared to what Sansa was doing to keep safe.

 

Arya had witnessed atrocities at Harrenhall, killed men and traveled with outlaws, but her body was her own.

 

_She's so stupid. She doesn't need to let the Hound paw at her like that. I made it and I'm younger than her._

 

Arya heard some scratching behind her and Sansa slipped under the blanket and curled up next to her. Soon her breathing evened out as she fell asleep.

 

Arya laid next to her sister. For her sleep did not come so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter is going to take a major step towards the Timeline? What Timeline? AU device. I'm not sure how people are going to react, but I'm going for it anyway.


	7. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finds out what Sansa has been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I'm trying to get from point A to point B but before that I have to make point C interesting and coherent.
> 
> Also, sorry for any lack of editing, I'm writing on my phone right now.

The next morning Arya cornered her sister while they broke camp. The Hound had gone to shit in the woods and Sansa was busy packing the saddle bags.

 

“I heard you and the Hound last night,” she said without tact.

 

Sansa blushed bright red and pretended to be engrossed with arranging the supplies. “I'm sorry; I don't understand what you're talking about.”

 

“Bullshit Sansa, you're fucking him.”

 

Her sister looked up at her with wide eyes, “Ayra! Your language!”

 

She scoffed. “Please! You've been traveling with Joffrey’s dog for how long?! I've heard him use worse trying to pack a saddle bag!”

 

She stomped her foot and hissed, “Stop trying to change the subject, why are you letting him fuck you?”

 

“You wouldn't understand.”

 

“Understand what?! That you let him mount you in exchange for killing people? Why would you do that?!”

 

Sansa stood up, “You have no idea what is going on between Sandor and I! And I don't have the energy to make you understand!”

 

Arya barely heard her. Syrio had told her to see what was really there and she felt like a fool for not seeing the signs earlier: Sansa eating so much even at the expense of the Hound going without, her needing to stop so much to make water, how she wretched sometimes, her temper, how she was sweating all the time, even how she was wearing a baggy dress and oversized bib to cover her body. Arya vaguely remembered their mother’s pregnancy with Ricken, but she saw what she remembered in Sansa's behavior.

 

She needed proof so she pulled up Sansa’s tunic. There clear as day was Sansa’s belly, large and round with a protruding navel.

 

Arya felt sick. “No.”

 

Sansa pulled her tunic down, “Arya, please!”

 

“No!” She was shaking all over, “It's not his, is it?”

 

Her sister started to cry, “wanted to tell you…”

 

Arya hadn’t heard the big man come out of woods. He looked from her to her crying sister back to her. He scowled.

 

“What did you say to your sister?”

 

The dagger Gendry gave her wasn't very long, but if she could just get him in the gut, he’d die a horrible death.

 

“Son of a bitch!” She hissed and charged at him.

 

Her first try the dagger bounced off his armor, the second did also, the third she threw all her weight behind but he just back handed her and she fell to the ground.

 

He picked up the dagger and turned in his hand crouching next to her.

 

“Nice blade, where'd you get it?”

 

“My friend made it for me “ she tasted blood where he had split her lip.

 

“It's not going through boiled leather and mail unless you keep it sharp,” he said handing it back to her handle first.

 

“Don’t try that again.”

 

He stood and walked over to Sansa. He put an arm around her shoulders and one of his big hands protectively on her swollen belly.

 

“You fucked my sister!” Arya gained her feet.

 

“Yes,” he said simply. “Still am.”

 

“You got her with child!”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That's your babe in there!” Arya pointed accusingly at Sansa’s bump.

 

“Yes.”

 

“She’s… You… _Our brother is going to fucking kill you!”_

“Maybe, maybe not.” He shrugged and kissed the top of Sansa’a head before turning to his horse. “That's remains to be seen wolf-bitch. Now finish breaking camp so we can get out of here. Every swine herd and hedge knight in the Riverlands heard your tirade.”

 

When they finished the Hound picked up Sansa and placed her in the saddle.

 

 

Then he turned to Arya he hissed in her ear, “If you bitch at your sister anymore, I'll tie you up and gag you. You'll ride tied to the saddle like a dead deer! Don't fuck with me wolf-bitch!

Then he picked her up to set her in front of Sansa.


	8. By the River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya finally gets the truth out of Sansa and the Hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you guys for all your kind words and criticisms!  
> It was also brought to my attention that my chapters are being posted on the wrong date, making it difficult for people to get updates.  
> I think I fixed the problem, but please let me know if it's still an issue.

Arya sat in silence for most of the morning. She had no idea what to say to either of them. Sansa tried to start conversations, but Arya couldn’t even bear to look at her sister.

 

_What the fuck was she thinking? He’s Joffrey’s dog, he’s from the same family as the Mountain, he’s a fucking butcher and she’s carrying his whelp!_

Arya contemplated what Robb would do when he found out. She decided she would let Sansa tell their mother.

 

When they stopped for lunch Arya found her voice; “Why Sansa? Why him? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

They sat in tall grass by the banks of a river eating dried beef and sweet plums her sister had found. Sansa rubbed her eyes, she had started crying yet again. The Hound had walked his big horse down to the river to drink.

 

“He’s the only one who cared if I lived or died in Kingslanding,” she said fat tears streaming down her dirty face. “Because I couldn’t bare the reality of what was going to happen to me if Joffrey actually married me, or worse if he set me aside and I was deemed worthless.”

 

Sansa pulled a dirty kerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose loudly.

 

“I know you still hate me for when I lied for Joffrey so long ago. I know you’re still mad that I begged father to stay in Kingslanding because I thought I loved Joffrey, and I’m sorry.”

 

The tears left clean streaks on Sansa's filthy face.

 

“I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t figure out how! How do you say, “You know that man you tried to have executed? Well he’s your goodbrother and I’m carrying his child!”

 

Arya took a moment to let what her sister said sink in.

 

“What the fuck Sansa?!”

 

Sansa’s eyes got wide. She had oblivious let something slip she didn't mean to and Arya was furious.

 

“When were you going to mention that part?” Arya demanded. “When we got to Mother and Robb? Or were you planning on lying about that to?”

 

Sansa looked defeated. “Neither of us wanted this child to be a bastard,” she said softly. “So we said our vows before we left in the godswood. My maid and one of the chiefs of the Hill tribes Lord Tyrion brought from the Vale witnessed it. Later, Shae helped me get away from Cersei and Timett left the Iron Gate open for us. “

 

“I also thought, if we were married, maybe Robb wouldn’t execute Sandor and take the baby from me,” she rubbed her nose with the back of a filthy hand.

 

 

Sansa sat up and looked her right in the eyes; “Arya, I got married in the godswood of the Red Keep in the middle of the night with no one to see except for a foreign maid who was a bed warmer for the Hand of the King and a Wilding who burned his own eye out! My groom was the disfigured, hulking second son of a minor house loyal to the family who murdered our father and quietly tortured me for almost two years! Not exactly what I dreamed of when I was a maid!”

 

Arya gaped at her sister and repressed a giggle. Sansa had always talked about her wedding in terms of knights, silk dresses, crowns of roses, fine food, minstrels and swans. _Fucking swans._ Arya never figured out where that idea came from, but had found the conversation between their father and Sansa regarding the logistics of getting swans to Winterfell very amusing.

 

“Oh yes!” her sister continued, her voice high and trembling. “Did I mention I was three months pregnant with his child, because no one told me you couldn’t dilute moon tea? That I had to smear chicken’s blood on my thighs and sheets to fool my other maids who were spies for the Queen?”

 

Sansa threw her hands up in desperation. Her tears came back as she continued, “Did I tell you that my so called betrothed, the King, referred to me as “Sansa the Fat Sow” in court? That when a minstrel wrote a song about how fat I was getting, Joffrey had it played at every meal? But I couldn’t help it; I was hungry all the time!”

 

Arya’s raged ebbed. Sansa was always the proper one, the one who could stitch a fine dress in a fortnight, the one who was always courteous and polite. She was the one who was considered a great beauty, who was talented in both music and figures, who could remember useless things like proper banquet seating arrangements and how to address a major lord’s decorated cousin. She was the one who was going to marry a great lord and be a great lady. She was going to be _Queen_ for fuck’s sake. No matter what she did in the past, Arya felt terrible that her sister had been brought so low.

 

  “I’m sorry Sansa,” she said softly.

 

“I’m sorry I lied to you Arya. I just wanted to have you be happy to see me.”

 

“I was. I am. I just wish you weren't with _him.”_

 

“Could you please stop trying to kill Sandor?”

 

“I’m not a kin slayer.”

 

Sansa smiled through her tears, “Could you stop fighting with him?”

 

Arya made a face.

 

“No.”

 

***

 

True to her word, Arya did not stop baiting the Hound into arguments. They argued about anything, they argued about nothing. Even if Arya agreed with him, she would figure out a way to contradict him.

 

Sansa had lapsed into a brooding silence. She only spoke up when she needed them to stop.

 

They were more or less following the Blackwater Rush river from what Arya could tell. This afforded them many opportunities for food and fresh water, but there were tense moments as they were not the only ones on the path.

 

Mostly they saw small folk going about their day; swine hearders and milk maids, an occasional traveling Septan and hedge knight. The Hound warned them both to not speak to anyone and keep their heads down. They were lucky; they had yet to encounter any soldiers. Although with Arya’s constant badgering, the Hound looked like he was spoiled for a fight. Deep down Arya almost felt sorry for the first idiot with a sword that would threaten him.

 

Finally the Hound’s patience snapped as they settled into camp that evening.

 

“You think I wanted to get your scrawny ass?” he snarled at her as he cleaned the fish he caught for dinner. “That was all your sister's idea! The second I saw you with those outlaws I knew they kept you around for ransom money. I would have been perfectly happy to let them drag you to Riverrun while your sister and I fucked off to Pentos or Quarth till this whole shit show of a war ended and the all the Lannisters were dead! “

 

“You were never going to take her back to our family, were you?” Arya felt her stomach drop. It was one thing for Sansa to be a prisoner in Kinglanding –there was always the hope of rescue- but to be spirited away across the narrow sea never to be seen again… That was beyond the pale.

 

“You're an asshole,” she hissed under her breath. “What kind of horrible act did Joffrey do that made her need to fuck you? How desperate was she? What did you do to my sister that she’d agree to leave our family?!”

 

The Hound finished with the fish and jammed his dagger into the log he sat upon. “You know what? If you can’t deal with us, I’ll drop you off at the next holdfast or tower we come across! You can walk up to the lord and get a raven to your mother telling her where you are and let her and your kingly brother come fetch you!”

 

Arya stood up from the ground. Even sitting, he was a head taller than her. It didn’t keep her from screaming, “I’m not leaving my sister alone with you! You’re the worst shit in the seven kingdoms!”

 

He snickered at her. His ruined face twisted in amusement, “You’ve never met my brother.”

 

“Yes I have!” she stopped her foot, and then felt stupid for acting like a child.

 

 Arya collected herself and said evenly, “I met him at Harrenhall! I also met The Tickler and Polliver and Raff the Sweetling and Dunsen and Chiswyk!”

 

The Hound’s jaw dropped, “What in seven hells where you doing at Harrenhall?”

 

“They caught Gendry, Hot pie, Lommy and me when they slaughtered the Night's Watch recruits. Raff the Sweetling killed Lommy with the sword Jon Snow gave me and they took us to Harrenhall. To your brother. I….. watched the Tickler work…”

 

Arya chewed the inside of her mouth to keep the tears back. Sometimes at night she could still hear the Tickler’s voice in her head; _Is there gold hidden in the village? Is there silver? Gems? Is there food? Where is Lord Beric? Where did he go? How many men? How many bow men? Is there gold in the village?_

During the day she, Gendry and Hot Pie would huddle in the middle of the sty were they kept the small folk the Mountain’s Men had captured. Arya never realized till that moment that Gendry always made sure to be in front of her, his wide shoulders blocking her from the gaze of whoever was picking the day’s victims. At night he would curl up next to her, back to back while Hot Pie sobbed on his other side.

 

The Hound studied her for a long time. Arya could feel the heat behind her eyes, but she would have rather bit through her lip than cry in front of him.

 

Suddenly he threw his hands up and muttered “Fuck it.”

 

Arya looked at him, “What-?”

 

“Fuck it, let’s go see your uncle get saddled with one of those ugly cows Walter Frey calls daughters.”

 

“Thank you,” she whispered then she turned away from him and sniffed.

 

 The Hound turned his shoulder to her and worked his dagger from the log.

 

“Let’s just hope your mother takes these wearwood tree weddings seriously. Or you might get your wish when she sees the state I’m bringing your sister in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Correction: someone pointed out to me that river I thought was the Trident is actually Blackwater Rush. So I made the correction. My bad.


	9. Under the Willows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya earns some respect from the Hound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My internet has been squirrely, so updates will come slower until the issue is resolved. Sorry.

Arya was in a decent mood the next morning. The sun was shining through the trees, the air was sweet and she managed to smack Stranger in the forehead when he tried to bite her.

 

Sansa, pleased at the sudden ceasefire between her sister and the Hound, sang them a sweet Dornish song about a beggar thief stealing a magic ruby as they traveled next to the river.

 

They stopped for lunch under a grove of willow trees. The Hound lounged in the shade as Arya and Sansa walked down to the river bank to fill the water skins. The mud along the river felt good on Arya’s bare feet. Sansa groaned as she sat down. Her feet were so swollen Arya winced just looking at them.

 

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

 

 “Sometimes,” her sister replied quietly as she rubbed her belly absentmindedly. “We've been on the road for so long… I wish I could curl up in a feather bed and be clean and eat food that I didn't have to kill.”

 

“Haven't you stayed at an inn?”

 

Her sister looked at her like she was crazy.

 

“Sandor and I are not exactly inconspicuous, Arya.”

 

Arya chuckled, “I guess you couldn’t pass for a boy as easily as I have.”

 

Sansa smiled at her. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped short and ungracefully scrambled to her feet. Arya looked over her shoulder and saw them; five soldiers walking along the river bank. The mud had muffled their footsteps and the overhanging willows had concealed their presence. Three had swords, one had a pike, another a wicked looking morning star. They looked worse for wear; all were missing bits of armor, the one with the pike was wearing miss matched leather boots. Under all the rust and despite the dents, the red paint of House Lannister on their plate was unmistakable.

 

The blood pounding in Arya’s ears drowned out the prattle from the soldiers. She knew what they wanted, no matter how cordial their greeting had been. Neither she nor Sansa had any food or money and even the fact that Sansa was obviously pregnant and Arya appeared to be a boy would not gainsay them from dragging them into the high grass to take what they had.

 

Sansa stood as still as a statue, arms crossed over her middle, eyes on the ground. She still had a scarf tied around her head, so at least her red hair didn’t attract any attention. Arya hazard a glance to the willow tree were they left the Hound. She couldn’t see his hulking figure under the branches.

 

_Fine time to go take a piss!_

Arya’s eyes darted around her, desperately looking for an escape route.

 

_The river, Sansa can still swim; they can’t in their armor….._

She was brought out of her planning when a spray of blood caught her across the face. She scrambled out of the way to avoid being crushed by the falling headless corpse of the man in front of her.

 

Arya didn’t think a man as large as the Hound could move as fast as he did; the solider with the morning star and another with a sword were on the ground bleeding before she had time to wipe the blood off her face with her sleeve. The remaining swordsman was desperately trying to ward off the Hound’s blows. The pike man was frozen on the spot; horrified recognition twisted his face as he watched the Hound butcher his comrades.

 

Arya saw the opportunity and burst into action. She skidded over the blood soaked soil and threw herself at the pike man’s leg. She shoved her dagger as hard as she could into the back of his calf. He howled in pain and collapsed on the ground. The Hound had finished off the last swordsman. He calmly walked over to the screaming pike man and asked Arya, “Do you want to finish him off?”

 

She shook her head, a little horrified, a little elated.

 

The Hound shrugged and shoved his sword through the man’s throat; his screams turned to a gurgle, then silence.

 

Arya sat on the ground, she could feel the warm blood from the fallen men seeping into her breeches. Her whole body shook from adrenaline and she was having hard time figuring out what to do next.

 

“Give me your dagger,” the Hound said calmly pulling her up by her arm. “Go in the river and wash yourself up.”

 

She placed the sticky blade in his outstretched hand and waded out into the water.

 

“Arya! Wait!” Sansa called after her from her hiding place among the reeds. She turned to her sister as she splashed towards her, holding her ratty skirt up like she was wearing a fine dress. “Take your breeches off; I’ll wash them for you.”

 

Arya hazard a look at the Hound; he was engrossed in looting whatever could be found on the bodies. She squirmed out of her breeches and handed them to her sister with numb fingers.

 

“Clean up and I’ll give you my other skirt to wear,” Sansa said as simply as if Arya had merely fallen in the mud instead of being soaked in blood from stabbing a man in the leg. Sansa scampered onto shore into the grass.

 

Arya turned to her task; she didn’t have any soap so she did her best rubbing her hands over her bloody thighs and knees. Thankfully her breeches had absorbed most of the blood and her small clothes were fairly clean. When she felt clean enough she waded back to shore, trying to pull her tunic as far down her legs as possible. Arya, didn’t know why, but the idea of the Hound seeing her in her small clothes made her want to grind her teeth. Thankfully the big man was faced away from her, digging through a saddle bag to give Sansa her spare skirt and a sliver of soap.

 

“Wash them here,” he rasped at her sister. “We’re staying clear of the river from now on. We’re getting close to the fighting and there will be more of _them_ around.”

 

Sansa nodded and handed Arya her skirt before heading down to the river to take care of the soiled breeches.

 

Sansa’s skirt was so long on Arya, she had to tie it in a knot to keep from tripping on it. She felt stupid with the skirt under her boy’s tunic. Her irritation made worse by the look of amusement the Hound had on his ugly face when he handed her back her dagger now clean of blood and gore.

 

“ _Shut up!”_ she spat before he could make whatever cutting remark he was planning.

 

“Certainly, my lady,” he said with a graceful bow, before dodging her halfhearted kick to his knee.


	10. The Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to get supplies results in big news

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the small chapter, I have RL responsibilities I can't weasel out of and get away to write. I am also working on a massive chapter for my other work, Spark. So for those of you who follow that work it will be updated soon.

They finally came upon a village that wasn’t burnt or deserted.

 

“You’re hungry, I’m hungry, your sister is hungry,” the Hound growled at her as they watched for signs of trouble a fair distance away from the entrance.

 

“Sansa’s always hungry,” Arya snapped back. “Any day now she’s going to kill and eat the weaker one of us.”

 

 

Ever since they left the river, food had become harder to come by. It had been days since they last had meat. Sansa was really good at finding mushrooms and tubers, but even those were getting harder to find.

 

The Hound had continued to give Sansa most of his portion. He would then stare at the fire drinking water and muttering how much he wanted wine. Arya started sharing the burden of making sure Sansa had enough to eat. If the Hound was too weak from hunger to swing his sword, they were dead.

 

Their misery was compounded by the intensity of the devastation around them. More often than not the people they encountered on the road were hushed and hurried. More carts held the wounded or dead than crops and no one was selling what they had.

 

They were waylaid every couple of days by men; sometimes deserters, sometimes outlaws, sometimes desperate small folk, but they always wanted to paw at her or her sister. Once a man offered the Hound a bag of silver for Sansa and was run through before he could finish presenting his deal. The Hound cursed and spat on his body when it turned out the bag was full of river stones and a handful of coppers.

 

Even with her new respect for Clegane, the more miserable Arya got the more she wanted Sansa to herself. She knew in between the Hound and her sister’s stupid big belly that wasn't going to happen. Sensing her need, Sansa would try and hold her during the cold nights, but her stomach was in the way and the Hound’s spawn would squirm and wake her up.

 

Arya’s only reprieve was her wolf dreams. She wasn’t hungry or cold then. She was large, fast and fearless. She hunted the men that would hurt them during the day and her pack was large and fierce. She still said her death prayer every night, although it felt disconcerting to not include the Hound.   

 

***

 

“People think I'm a boy, I'll go,” she said not taking her eyes off the village.

 

The Hound grumbled, “You’re weak, I give you three days before I wake up to your sister gnawing on your leg. I’ll go.”

 

“You might as well put on your snarling dog helm,” Arya countered. “We passed a regiment from the Westerlands yesterday, remember?” It had been a tense moment, but surprisingly not a single soldier had spared a second look at the big man leading a horse carrying a pregnant woman and what appeared to be a teenage boy. They had been incredibly lucky, and the Hound knew it.

 

Clegane hissed a curse through his teeth.

 

“Fine,” he snarled in defeat and handed her the almost empty bag of coins. “Get food that’ll keep; dried beef, sausages, cheese and apples. No bread, no fresh meats, no butter. And wine, Dornish Sour if they have it.”

 

Arya wrinkled her nose at him. Sansa had pulled her aside when they went to go scout the village and had made it very clear that under no circumstances was Clegane to have wine. Apparently he was a lousy drunk.

 

“Don’t make me tell my sister you asked for that,” she pleaded.

 

“Save yourself some pain girl and get a skin of wine,” he growled at her.

 

Arya shrugged and strolled into the village.

 

The village was tiny. Most of the buildings were empty, but Arya managed to buy supplies from the inn. She tried to haggle, but still ended up spending almost half their money on a quarter of the food she thought they needed. She was about to leave when she overheard a group of men talking over mugs of ale.

 

“And I’m telling ya Stannis has him in the dungeons of Dragon Stone!” insisted a bald man missing two fingers.

 

“You’re full of shit Pate! He’s dead, at the bottom of the Blackwater like the rest of those poor bastards!” countered his friend who reeked so strongly of pig that Arya could smell him from the door.

 

“Here’s to King Joffrey! Last of the Five Kings!” declared a very drunk bearded man sitting in the corner. Everyone laughed.

 

“Shut up you old fool!” snapped Pate. “There’s still the squid and the young wolf left!”

 

Arya’s heart stopped. She ran up to the table and blurted out, “Joffrey’s dead?”

 

The men turned to her and stared.

 

“No, he’s in the dungeons of Dragon Stone, have you been under a rock? Stannis took him at the Blackwater!”

 

“Shut up Pate, you big bollocks!” said the pig man. He turned to Arya and said, “No one knows where he is. My cousin’s mate came back from Stoney Sept, and he says they was ringing the bells cause little prince Tommen is marrying Margery Tyrell. Then he says that no ones seen Joffrey since the Battle of the Blackwater when his dog tucked tail and ran from the fire.”

 

“I’m telling you Stannis scared away the dog and grabbed the king!” insisted Pate, even though everyone at the table groaned at him.

 

“I heard it was that Northern princess,” said a small quiet man in the corner. “She turned into a wolf, like her brother can, and tore out the dog’s throat before ripping the king to pieces. Then she grew wings like a bat and flew away.”

 

The pig man hacked and then spit on the ground in front of the small man. “You pay him no mind boy,” he said to Arya. “He ain’t right in the head.”

 

“It’s true,” the small man insisted. “All them Northerners can change into wolves. That’s why the young wolf has won every battle. That’s why there are so many wolves about. I bet that big wolf bitch that keeps stealing Walder’s cattle is one of them!”

 

The men around the table threw their meal scraps at him and Arya turned to go. Her heart was beating so hard she felt light headed.

 

_Joffrey is gone. Joffrey is gone. Joffrey is gone._

 

Feeling generous, she stopped the inn keeper and used one of their last gold dragons to buy the Hound two skins of wine.

 

***

 

Arya practically ran back to where she left the Hound and Sansa. The words of the men in the inn spun in her head like graceful dancers.

 

_Joffrey’s gone! Joffrey’s gone! Tommen is marrying Margery Tyrell who ever that is!_

She remembered Tommen as a pudgy little boy with a sweet disposition and a healthy fear of his brother. There was no way he would continue the war.

 

Arya found them sitting in a grove of trees far from the road. The Hound was sitting against a large poplar with Sansa curled up in his lap.

 

“ _I have news!”_ she cried, but was then distracted by the state she found them.

 

 The Hound had his sword belt off, his tunic was untucked and his mail and leather armor where in a heap by his side. Sansa’s hair was a mess and her clothes were rumpled. Both were dozing, but the Hound perked up as she approached.

 

“Did you get everything?” he asked watching her from half opened eyes.

 

Arya gaped at them, “I can’t leave you alone for an hour! No wonder you got my sister with a big belly!”

 

The Hound chuckled at her.

 

“Be thankful you didn't come back sooner wolf-bitch.”

 

Sansa stirred in his lap. She saw her sister and blushed removing all doubt as to how they had spent the time waiting for her.

 

“Arya! Oh good, you’re back!” Sansa said, trying not to sound sleepy or guilty.

 

“Your tunic is on backwards, Sansa,” Arya sneered.


	11. The Weasel Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tells a campfire story and gets The Hound to talk about Joffrey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note, I have updated the tags.
> 
>  This is the weirdest thing I've ever written. 
> 
> The story Arya tells is based on Tanith Lee's Book of the Dead, which is based on an old Romanian folk tale, which is why I have no problem adapting it :)  
> I wrote it into show how Arya is still dealing with what she has experienced and how much its affected her, even if she doesn't realize it. 
> 
> If Rape/NonCon and horror scare you, skip it. The beginning and end are marked with this *****.

Sansa seemed more upset that Arya had purchased wine for the Hound than the disappearance of Joffrey. She yelled at both of them and poured out one skin on the ground. She and the Hound then got in a shouting match that ended with both of them in quiet rage. Arya felt somewhat guilty (even though it was annoying that they had chosen to fuck the second she stepped out of sight) she felt bad how her actions caused them to be so angry at each other.

 

They both seethed in silence as they continued on. Arya thought that she would be elated that her sister and the Hound were at each others throats, but it just made for awkward travel and an even more awkward evening.

 

“It's too quiet,” Arya remarked desperate to get either of them to make conversation.

 

“I could sing for you,” offered Sansa with her back to the Hound.

 

The Hound made a noise that sounded like a dismissive growl.

 

Sansa rounded on him, “You used to ask me to sing!”

 

“I'm not going to stop you, but I can't take any more of that romantic foolishness!” He snarled. He thought for a second then added, “And no hymns!”

 

Sansa bit her lower lip and looked like she was about to tell the Hound where he could stick his requests.

 

Arya cut her off and exclaimed, “I know a story!” Then she racked her brain for something to tell.

 

Both the Hound and her sister focused on her from opposite ends of the fire.

 

“It's called The Weasel Bride,” Arya breathed finally remembering a story she knew well enough to tell.

 

“No romances,” barked the Hound taking out his whet stone. He had taken to sharpening her dagger for her, but the noise set her teeth on edge.

 

“It’s not a romance,” Arya snapped. “It's a scary story!”

 

The Hound shrugged and studied the edge of Arya's dagger in the fire light. Sansa settled against a log and laid her hands protectively on her belly.

 

“Please tell us your story, Arya,” she said in her most courtly manner.

 

Arya took a pull off a water skin and began:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 *****

 

Once upon a time, a mere hundred years after the Targaryen invasion there lived a son of the Lord of the House of Lothston. One day the Lord’s son was out hunting in the woods when he came across a beautiful girl bathing in a hot spring. He was so overcome with her beauty that when she finished her bath, he raped her on the banks of the pool.

 

What he did not know was that the girl was the only daughter of the chief of the River clans. When they found out what had happened they told his lord father that if they did not give them restitution for the defilement of his daughter the chief would take his warriors off of the plains and burn Lord Lothson’s crops and kill his men.

 

So the Lord told his son he would have to marry the girl to erase the shame he brought on her and her tribe.

 

But the girl didn't want to marry him; he had hurt her on the inside so much she never wanted to feel the touch of another person again. So she prayed to the old gods on the Island of Faces to save her from a life with the man who defiled her by hurting him worse than he hurt her.

 

The wedding went ahead as planned but there was no joy in the event.

 

The morning after the bedding, a maid came in to serve them breakfast and found the bride dead with a sheet twisted around her neck. The Lord’s son sat in the corner holding a rag to a mangled and bloodied hand.

 

His middle two fingers on his right hand had been chewed off at the second knuckle

 

When his father asked what had happened, he merely said “I touched her lips”.

 

When they brought the son to be judged before the gods he told the Septon, “I touched her lips. Then I strangled her. I did it and I am ready to leave this world.”

 

The people asked, “Did she bite off your fingers? Is that why you strangled her?”

 

“I only touched her lips, “the Lord’s son replied. Then he knelt and rested his neck on the chopping block.

 

“Swing true,” he begged. “I wish to leave this world quicker than my wife.”

 

So the executioner took his head and the girl was placed in the ground, wrapped in the cold embrace of her wedding cloak. The River clan of the bride faded into the high grass, never to be seen again.

 

Since that day, The House of Lothston was pledged by madness, finally peaking when Mad Danelle used giant bats to steal children then bathe in their blood. The Targaryens, aghast at the sins against the gods, ordered the destruction of House Lothston, offering their castle and lands to whoever could bring down.

In the end it was House Whent that struck the final blow and was rewarded richly. Wanting to rid the land of all memory of House of Lothston, House Whent  began breaking the up the family's  graveyard for farm land.

 

After some digging the work men came across a casket buried deep, closed with long nails and sealed with wax They thought it had to be treasure.

 

When they pried open the box they found the girl in her rotting wedding cloak, her bones black with age. They ripped back the cloak and in their horror of what they saw, they ran screaming back to the castle. When the head of the household guard finally came out to quiet the chaos he found one worker's hair had gone white even though he was a boy of six and ten, one was babbling nonsense and one merely held himself never to let go.

 

 The head of the household guard declared the men weak and marched up to the casket to see what was so horrible that it drove men mad. He took in the sight and just before his mind was swallowed by darkness, he saw what the gods had given the girl to help in her revenge.

 

 Her bones were black, but nestled in the pelvis was the white skeleton of a weasel. It's head was facing down like a babe ready to be born; but it's neck was long and hung between the pelvic bones like a snake ready to strike. Inside the mouth lined with needle sharp teeth were the bones of two fingers bit down to the second knuckle.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

“Arya!! That's the most horrible story I have ever heard!” Sansa shrieked.

 

Sansa had turned green and then ran into the woods to be ill. The Hound looked at her and chuckled without mirth.

 

“Congratulations, you've made your sister physically sick," he rasped and shook his head. " Where'd you hear such a story?”

 

She looked him in the eyes: “At Harrenhall, the bed warmers would tell that story to each other as they used salves and strong wine to deal with what your brother’s men were doing to them.”

 

The Hound got up and stood over her. His bulk blocked out the light from the fire. She was reminded how huge his brother had been. Arya remembered The Mountain standing over the swine pin full of terrified small folk; his piggy eyes sweeping over them, judging who was next for the Tickler.

 

The spell was broken when Clegane crouched down and wiggled all ten of his meaty digits in her face.

 

_“Your sister isn't cursed, wolf-bitch!”_

 

 Then he rubbed his filthy paws all over her face and through her hair before shoving her over on her back.

 

He stepped over her, chuckling to himself as he went to find her sister in the forest. She heard them talking in whispers, appearing be suddenly over their disagreement from that afternoon.

 

Arya lay in the dirt and laughed.

 

_What an asshole._

*

The next morning was the first time Arya had awaken alone on the scratchy wool blanket and didn’t have the urge to stab the Hound in the eye for stealing her sister in the night. She yawned and sleepily drug herself into the trees to make water. When she returned she found the Hound sitting up on his bed roll yawning like a big dumb animal. All she could see of Sansa was a mop of red hair, frizzy at the ends and dark with sweat at the roots poking out from under the Hound's cloak. The Hound rubbed his face then regarded her with blood shot eyes.

 

“Good morning wolf-bitch.”

 

Arya racked her brain to think of a cutting remark, but could only come up with, “Good morning _ser.”_

His face twisted with annoyance for a moment and Arya smiled with a little victory.

 

The Hound stood up and stretched, Arya heard his joints creak.

 

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and your mother will let me sleep one night in a feather bed before she takes my head,” he grumbled before disappearing into the bushes.

 

Arya sat on the ground and fished an apple out of a saddle bag. She had hid the other skin of wine under the sack of fruit and with any luck they could trade it for food later, assuming the Hound didn’t sniff it out first.

 

The apple was dusty so Arya rubbed it against her tunic. She looked at the fruit with a grunt; now it was dusty and filthy. She sighed and bit into it anyways. She scratched her flea bites and thought about how she used to run and hide when it was bath time in Winterfell.

 

_Oh what a foolish child I was…._

 

The Hound returned from the bushes and sat down beside her with a grunt.

 

“Hand me an apple and that sausage,” he growled, his voice gravely with sleep. “Just don’t take the cheese out, I swear your sister can hear cheese being sliced and I would like to finish a meal without her staring at me.”

 

Arya snickered and the Hound cut her a slice of sausage.

 

They chewed in silence, occasionally stealing glances over at Sansa's sleeping form.

 

“You two seem to take Joffrey’s disappearance lightly,” Arya remarked.

 

The Hound stared at the ground and shoved the last of the sausage in his mouth to avoid talking to her.

 

“The men at the Inn said Stannis had him under Dragonstone, or that he died in the battle,” she said evenly as the big man tried to avoid her face. “They said _you_ turned craven and fled the battle with your tail between your legs."

 

He didn't respond to her so she added, "They even said Sansa turned into a wolf and killed you and Joffrey both before growing bat wings and flying away.”

 

That made the Hound chuckle. He turned to her and rasped, “Do you believe your sister could turn into a wolf? Then grown bat wings?”

 

Arya thought about her wolf dreams. She knew _she_ couldn’t turn into a wolf. If she could she would have torn out Gregor Clegane’s throat before fleeing Harrenhall carrying Gendry by the scruff of his neck like a puppy.

 

“No,” she said at last. “Sansa would never turn into a wolf because it would have ruined her pretty dresses. But if she could Joffrey would have been dead a long time ago.”

 

Feeling puckish she followed up with, “Why does Sansa need to turn into a wolf when she has a dog on a leash?” 

 

The Hound snarled at her which made her giggle.

 

“Sandor?” peeped a small voice behind them. “Could you help me up, please?”

 

Sansa had rolled onto her back and laid as helpless a turtle. Clegane walked over and scooped her up, balancing her on her feet.

 

“Can you stand little bird?” he asked her softly.

 

“I think so,” she whimpered before walking into the bushes on wobbly legs.

 

Arya watched her sister while loudly chewing on a mouth full of apple.

 

“Did she get bigger in the night?”

 

The Hound scratched at the beard he was haphazardly growing on the good side of his face. The burnt side of his mouth twitched.

 

“It appears so,” he said. “The only pregnant woman I’ve been around was Cersei and she had an army of maids, a feather bed and all the food she could eat.” He stared at the ground before focusing on Arya. “With the time we’re making we should go straight to Riverrun. Your sister will be in agony if we try to make it to the Twins for the wedding. Hopefully someone will be there to let us in.”

 

Arya was thankful this would soon be over, but felt like he was still avoiding her earlier prying.

 

She clamored up and stood in front of him.

 

“Aren’t you worried about what happened to Joffrey?”

 

The big man sighed so deep his whole frame shook. Then he looked her right in the face and said, “It doesn’t matter. He’s dead and we’re not. No use dwelling on it when there are so many more important things going on right now.”

 

Arya returned his stare, “But you knew him all his life, don’t you feel anything?”

 

The Hounds eyes flicker to where Sansa had gone into the brush before returning Arya’s stare.

 

“I tell you true, the day they put a crown on Joffrey’s head was the day the little boy I knew disappeared. They called me a rabid dog, but it was him whose brain was full of holes and foaming at the mouth with rage. I’ve already mourned him, and now I have a wife and a pup on the way…. I can’t waste my time on someone I lost a long time ago.”

 

Arya chewed her lip, trying to figure out how to feel.

 

“Don’t badger your sister,” he continued in a warning tone. “Joffrey did things to her that she will never speak of, even to me. Now she can put it behind her and hopefully forget.”

 

Sansa came tumbling out of the woods at that moment mumbling and pulling leaves from her hair.

 

“Could I have some water?” she asked weakly. “And some cheese and apples, please?”

 

The Hound nodded and dug the cheese out of one of the bags. Arya grabbed an apple before the Hound had a chance to discover the hidden wine skin and tossed it to Sansa.

 

The apple bounced off her sister's outstretched hands and rolled to her feet. She looked up at Arya with a quivering lip and watery eyes.

 

“Sansa, calm down, just bend over and pick it up,” Arya said, trying to soothe her sister.

 

“Very funny Arya!” her sister screeched. “ _I can’t see the apple because I haven’t seen my feet in weeks!”_

 


	12. Before Arya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sander has a nightmare, a dirty dream and a rude awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this as a side note to Road to Nowhere. I think it might be too confusing to post it as it's own story so I decided to add it here.
> 
> THE FIRST PART MIGHT BE VERY DISTURBING TO SOME READERS!!!
> 
>  
> 
> If you don't want to read it skip the text between this mark *****
> 
> This is a night on the road from Sandor's point of view, a few days before he gets captured by the Mad Huntsman. 
> 
> This is literally angst, smut, then fluff.

His little bird was hurt.

 

 

*****

 

Hurt so bad.

 

There was so much blood; on her thighs, in her mouth, where the rope dug into her wrists. Her blue eyes were swelling shut ringed by big purple bruises. Her swollen belly was black and blue.

 

She whispered his name over and over.

 

He couldn't move.

 

 Gergor had tied him up like a sow for slaughter, then cut out his tongue. He could hear them laughing; his brother and his rats.

 

Her swollen lips moved, “Sandor”.

 

His name. When he had finally got her to stop calling him “my lord” so much, it had felt like a triumph. Now it felt like a knife in his heart.

 

“Sandor.”

 

He couldn't move. He couldn't even scream.

 

"Sandor!"

 

He's watching them murder her.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

_"Sandor wake up!"_

 

Sandor Clegane shot up, his hands wrapped around his sword. He scanned the area, his heart hammering in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead. He gulped down air so fast it burned.

 

“Sandor?” the little bird was sitting above him. Sansa had long ago figured out to sit above his head when waking him up from a nightmare. He remembered the horrible night before she figured that out; when he sat up sword in hand she had screamed and scramble away in fear.

 

“It's okay," she whispered. "Lay back down.”

 

Satisfied the forest around them was bereft of his brother and his men, Clegane dropped his sword in the dirt next to him before collapsing back onto his bedroll. Sansa scooted forward and pulled his head into her lap. Or what was remaining of her lap. Her belly was growing alarmingly fast.

 

Sansa sang sweetly under her breath and ran her hands through his hair.

 

 Sandor let his breathing slow and relaxed under her touch. She ran her hands from his jaw up to his temple before repeating the caress on his bad side.

 

"Why do you do that little bird? You know I can't feel anything over there," he whispered, but didn't really want her to stop.

 

"Because it's the part of you that is unquestionably you," she replied. "When that man grabbed me, he was so big; I thought it was you in my sleepy daze till I felt his face. That's when I scratch his eyes out."

 

Sandor sighed. She had been asleep, so he had assumed he could go for a piss for five seconds when that happened. He had heard the man screaming as Sansa dug her jagged finger nails into his face. Cutting off the man's head was almost mercy or at least it shut him up. Clegane had new found respect for his little bird then. She didn't cry afterwards (which was weird because she had gotten to the stage in her pregnancy where she cried at _everything_ ). She had just wanted to wash the flesh from underneath her finger nails and move on.

 

Sandor wondered how long ago that had been. Sansa's pregnancy had still been easy to conceal when they had left Kingslanding. Now her belly was large and round, becoming obvious even under her baggy clothes.

 

It would have been so much easier to just steal her in the night onto a boat across the Narrow Sea as he had wanted to do when she told him the news.

 

Unfortunately for him, she wanted her family. Her little brother in Winterfell was the least likely member to take his head and then the babe so they headed north. But first they had to cross through the middle of a fucking war zone, one that promised a chance meeting with his brother and his rats. No matter how much the little bird tried to reassure him, his nightmares stayed.

 

Sansa ran her hands through his hair again. It felt good on his scalp although he knew his hair reeked of smoke and sweat and was lank and filthy under her touch. Neither of them had so much as a swim in a river in a fortnight. He knew he stank. Living in the same clothes and sweating under leather and mail armor every day didn't lend itself to smelling as pleasant as the Knight of Flowers. Regardless, Sansa still kissed him and wrapped herself around him at night. After being Cersei’s dog for so long, he had some idea of what pregnancy did to women (it had made Cersei an even bigger bitch if that was at all possible) but he still had no idea how to act around Sansa sometimes. All the little bird wanted to do was eat, cry and stop to make water every 20 feet. In between the last two it had been painfully slow going. Anytime he tried to hurry her resulted in tears or uncharacteristic rage.

 

At least it didn't seem that the Lannisters knew which way they went. He hadn't seen anything scarier than the occasional armed peasant or lost hedge knight in the last fortnight and those were easy enough to deal with.

 

Sandor let out a content breath and dozed under his little bird's hands.

 

He was soon dreaming again, only this time it was a much happier affair.

 

They were in the godswood, Sansa was riding his cock wearing nothing but his family cloak on her back. This wasn't exactly how their hastily cobbled together wedding had played out, but he was enjoying it none the less.

 

He grasped her hips and ground himself impossibly deep into her cunt. She was panting and begged him to fuck her harder.

 

She was so fucking beautiful with her fiery hair down around her shoulders, her skin so pale it seemed to glow under the moonlight. Her hips were fuller, teats bigger- fucking amazing.

 

Sansa was his, all his; with his pup in her belly and his cloak on her back, she was his little bird and no one could take her away.

 

He pulled her under him. He positioned her feet to rest on his shoulders, then dove into her again. She arched her back and screamed his name, begging him to make her peak.

 

All of a sudden he felt a tapping on the crown of his head, like someone threw an acorn at him. He shook it off and went back to fucking his wife. Sandor decided she had begged enough and reached down to the little nub, ghosting over it, making her peak, making her sing.

 

It was finally his turn.  He thrust into her and felt a little tap on his head again. He refocused but there it was again, harder this time.

 

Damnit! It was never this hard to finish!

 

Another tap and Sandor shook himself awake with a snort. His was still in Sansa's lap, though the crown of his head was settled against her swollen belly. He sat up on one elbow and watch as her flesh bulged and rippled under her thin shift.

 

“Someone wanted you out of my lap,” she chuckled.

 

Sandor gently placed his hand on her belly and felt a tiny fist or foot press against it.

 

“She's mine till you come out,” he whispered to her belly.


	13. The Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hound and Arya share a drink. Sansa finally gets to sleep in a real bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. I've rewritten it so many times, I think I might be over thinking it. Let me know what you guys think!

_She could smell him, but he was not close. She followed the sent, her pack fanning out behind her like infantry soldiers._

 

_After awhile she saw the camp fire, heard the harp and laughter, smelled the cooking meat._

 

 

_Her pack growled and whined at her; Let us attack, let us feed._

 

_She snapped at her Alpha male and bared her teeth._

 

_Mine!_

 

_Then she snarled and he rolled over exposing his belly in submission. He was so much smaller than her, so easy to rip apart…._

 

_She turned back to the campfire. Even with all the other smells she knew he was there. She crept close enough to watch the men. It was dangerous, they had arrows and swords, but she had stealth. They were too drunk to notice her movements till she was right on top of her target._

 

_The man sat further from the fire than the rest, rubbing a cloth over his bull’s head helmet. She breathed in his scent._

 

_Mine._

 

_Suddenly he froze, she could smell his fear. He turned his head, blue eyes met yellow. He scrambled towards the fire. His hair was longer now and it fell across his face easily._

 

_She turned and loped off into the night, barking to gather her pack, she knew where to find him now…._

 

 

“Arya! Wake up!”

 

She immediately shot up. The Hound was crouched over her shaking her shoulder.

 

He never called her Arya, it had always been “wolf-bitch” or “she-wolf” when Sansa gave him the shit eye.

 

“What's wrong?” she said shaking her head to clear her mind.

 

“Your sister is sick,” he replied and pulled her up to her feet.

 

Sansa was leaning against a tree. Her hands were gripping the bark as her shoulders shook in a spasm of pain.

 

The Hound took her chin in hand forced Arya to look into his face.

 

“I'm taking her to the next town over,” he rasped, his voice was so calm it unnerved her. “I need you to pack up the supplies and meet us there.”

 

“Are you walking?” Arya grumbled. She had no desire to be anywhere near Stranger without his master present.

 

“No,” he replied he turned from her and saddled his horse.

 

Arya rubbed the grit from her eyes. Her heart was beating very fast. The Hound was never calm; he always had a simmering rage under his skin. It must be really bad.

 

_Fear cuts deeper than swords._

 

She could see the Hound talking softly to her sister and Sansa shaking her head.

 

“No! Please don't make me get back on the horse!” she begged and Arya felt a lump in her throat.

 

The Hound gathered up her sister in his arms despite her protests and set her in the saddle.

 

He mounted up behind her and turned to Arya.

 

“There is a road a few miles north of here,” he stated, so calm Arya felt her heart beat faster. “I'm taking it west.”

 

“Wait!” Arya yelled before he could put his heels to his horse. “Which way is north?!”

 

The Hound didn’t snarl or snap at her, instead he replied simply, “Go the way I'm leaving, then go left when you hit the road. “

 

He put an arm around her sister, then his heels to his horse and he was gone.

 

Arya didn't want to take the time to relight the fire so she groped around campsite in darkness picking up bedding and dirty cookware. By the time she was pretty sure she got everything the moon had risen.

 

She piled the saddle bags on her shoulders and stumbled into the forest following the trail Stranger had left. It felt like hours before she burst from the woods onto the road. By the time she found the town the sky was turning grey and there was a thin line of pink in the distance.

 

Arya spotted Stranger tied up in front of what could be called an Inn. At one time it could have been a fine building, but now it looked like it would fall over if someone sneezed at it. It leaned to the side with bushes and other plants growing in the moldy thatch. Its windows were crooked and the stable had only a half a roof.

 

She could see a curl of smoke coming out of the chimney and smell food. It was good enough for her.

 

Arya wrestled the front door open and spilled into the common room. The ceiling was low and had exposed timbers crisscrossing above her head. It was empty except for a bored serving wench dozing by the bar and a hulking figure that could only be the Hound seated at the furthest table from the hearth. He had his back against the wall and was resting his head in his hands.

 

She thought he was dozing so she dropped the saddle bags in front of him as loud as she could. His eyes snapped to her but he didn’t even flinch.

 

“Where is she?” Arya asked, too tired to bitch at him for having to carry everything.

 

He took a drink out of the cup in front of him. She didn’t smell wine, so she assumed it was water.

 

“She’s upstairs with the midwife they brought in from town,” he said in an even, calm tone.

 

Arya collapsed onto the bench on the opposite side of the table.

 

The Hound drummed his fingers on the table top. She saw dark stains on his hands.

 

“She was bleeding by the time we got here,” he explained. “Not much, but enough to make her cry.”

 

Arya placed her forehead on the cool table top. She breathed in the smell of stale beer and spilled gravy. She must have fallen back asleep because the next thing she felt was the Hound poking her on the top of the head.

 

A squat woman of indeterminate old age with tightly curled grey hair and a face like a dried apple was making her way towards them. She mumbled something to the servant girl then sat down next to Arya.

 

“And who are you?” She asked Arya. The woman’s face was nothing but wrinkles and moles, but her eyes twinkled like Old Nan’s did so long ago.

 

“Nan,” Arya lied quickly. “The woman you helped is my sister.”

 

The woman nodded and turned to the Hound.

 

“Well, ser, your wife is going to be fine. She’s sleeping now. A little bleeding is perfectly normal at this stage. The pain came from the babe growing too fast for her body to keep up with. She’s six months along if she’s a day and from the sound of it, she hasn’t been in the best of circumstances the last two moons.”

 

The serving wench brought the midwife some beer. She drank down the mug in one swallow.

 

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and continued, “She needs bed rest for at least a fortnight before she should go out again. She says you are making for Stoney Sept after your farm was burnen by soilders"

 

The woman’s eyes twinkled and she smiled exposing a gummy mouth with one tooth. It was clear she did not believe a word that Sansa had told her.

 

“She needs to rest and eat better food,” The midwife pinched Arya’s arm so hard it hurt. “From the look of it you need it to!”

 

The woman rose to leave, but to Arya’s astonishment she leaned over the table and shoved a stumpy, wrinkly finger in the Hound’s face.

 

“And you, you big aurochs! Keep your cock to yourself! She’s too far along to be carrying on like you have!” she scolded.

 

Arya sat very still waiting for the Hound to snarl at the old woman or slit her throat. Instead he threw his hands up in surrender and scowled.

 

The old woman turned to Arya and in a sweet voice said, “If she needs anything else, just come get me in town, they call me Nanny.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

Arya sighed and put her head in her hands. She was never one for figures but it suddenly occurred to her that Sansa was a lot further along than she let on.

 

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” she tried to fix the Hound with a glare.

 

The Hound sneered at her, “That's none of your business wolf-bitch.”

 

“Sansa said she took moon tea, she said she was three months pregnant when you two married, I just heard the midwife say she is six months along, so how long?"

 

The Hound took a deep breath. He looked exhausted and defeated.

 

"A little under a year," he raspsed. "A week or so after the bread riots in Kingslanding. Two days after her ten and sixth name day."

 

He signaled to the serving girl over and ordered a flagon of wine with two cups. He didn't look at her or say anything till they showed up and poured for her.

 

“Drink up wolf bitch,” and he commanded.

 

He stared at the stairs. Then drained his cup and poured more.

 

“Your sister isn't as stupid as most people took her for, myself included,” he said finally. “I guess she learned her lesson after Joffrey took your father’s head that if people thought she was simple, they wouldn't expect anything out of her and they won't pay attention to what she was doing."

 

He took a drink. 

 

“Unfortunately, Joffrey wasn't paying attention to her; he was paying attention to your brother. Every time he had a victory Joffrey took it out of your sister’s hide in front of the court. When the Imp showed up and humiliated Joffrey in front of everyone for having your sister stripped and beaten, he started having her drug to his rooms for punishment. Little shit did it when I wasn't around…. I don't know what he did her… She was definitely a maid when she showed up in my room….I guess it was bad enough she needed to seek me out for help….”

 

The Hound suddenly noticed Arya’s cup.

 

“Drink up wolf-bitch,” he said. “This story isn't going to get any prettier”.

 

He finished his cup and poured some more.

 

“There was a riot the day Myrcella was sent off to Dorne to marry some greasy haired twat. The small folk started throwing shit at Joffery as we made our way back to the Keep. Then they started screaming that Cersei was a brother fucker.”

 

“Are you going to stop laughing so I can continue?” he snarled as Arya cackled.

 

“So, the bread riots… Joffery started screeching and all hells broke loose. I saw them tear the High Septan apart. Lollys Stokworth was practically raped to death, Aron Santigar got his skull smashed in and the fucking King left your sister and me to be torn to pieces. She had a horse, mine had taken off. They were pulling her from the saddle so I butchered them. I got up on her horse and took her to the Keep. The half man was the only one glad to see us. Then he sent me out again to make sure the fucking water wagons weren't stolen because Flea Bottom caught fire. Should have let it burn down, less people more food. The very next day that golden haired prick started complaining that I'd brought back your sister. _Bitching at me for fucking surviving and not leaving his betrothed get raped to death!”_

 

The Hound slammed his mug down so hard that it cracked and the table shook. He looked into the flagon to see if there was anything left in it.

 

“Get the serving wench, I need more wine.”

 

Arya waved her hands at the girl who was suddenly wide awake.

 

“Your sister thanked me for saving her and I bit her head off,” the simmer rage was back in his voice. “She just sounded so stupid with her rehearsed curtsies and righteous indignation, I couldn't help myself.”

 

The serving girl appeared with more wine and a mug. She set the flagon down and scurried back to the bar.

 

“You need to drink more, wolf bitch. I'll continue when you finish that cup.”

 

Arya took a deep breath and slurped back the wine. It tasted like the stuff they used to clean silverwear smelled.

 

She must have turned green because the Hound said, “You're not going to retch are you? Good. Don't waste wine I'm paying for. “

 

_You're the one making me drink, asshole._

 

He finished his next cup and poured some more before leaning closure to her and dropping his voice.

 

“You have to understand, she came to me,” he rasped quietly. “She broke into my room, I have no idea how. I was drunk, she had nothing on under her cloak. If you were really a boy you'd understand. You'd be amazed how easy it is to bite the hand that holds your leash when you’re being led around by your dick.”

 

“Are you going to retch now? No? Then stop gagging! Drink more wine. ”Arya made a face at him and poured another glass. Hopefully if she drank enough she could erase the image of her sister seducing the Hound from her head.

 

The Hound’s speech was getting slower as he continued, “Your sister kept coming back. Like I said, I have no idea how she got in there, but every night she was there. Soon, I couldn’t tell her “no.” First she asked me to get rid of the Kingsguard that hurt her, that was easy enough… but then she requested that I never leave her alone with Joffrey…. And then there were the ideas she put in my head…. she was up to something…. The little bird knew what she was doing, she fooled them all, especially me."

 

Arya suddenly realized that the big man was getting very drunk. They were on their third flagon and Arya had only choked down three cups. Her head was fuzzy and her muscles were nice and loose.

 

“I should have known what was going on. She was there every fucking night for so long… “ he seemed to forget She was there and suddenly got very quiet.

 

“The Imp closed the ports so things like moon tea were no longer coming in,” he said at last. “She said she thought if she brewed half the dose but drank twice as much, it would work. It didn't.”

 

The Hound chuckled darkly, and drank the dregs at the bottom of the fourth flagon of wine. The serving girl appeared with a fifth.

 

“She didn't tell me about the babe till she saw the catapults going up over the Blackwater,” he said finally. “She knew Stannis was coming she just didn't know when. She was panicking that I would die. I knew it didn't matter who won, if we stayed we'd die. Joffrey would kill us both the second she started showing for for true. If Stannis won, he would put my head on a spike and give your sister to his red witch unless your brother bent the knee. He wouldn't though, Your brother… not for a cunt with a bastard pup from a jumped up banner man loyal to his enemy-even if it was his sister-"

 

Arya took a deep breath in preparation to hurl some of the more interesting swear words she knew at him, when the Hound cut her off.

 

“Do you want to hear the rest?! Then shut your fucking mouth.” She did but only because she was drunk and didn't think she could dodge a blow if he tried to hit her.

 

“I knew I could get us out of there in the chaos before Stannis took the city. I packed my horse and waited till all hells broke loose. After all the shit Joffrey did to your sister…. She had a plan for him, but I ruined it…..I got the half man to let me guard Joffery up on the battlements instead of running into that fire shit storm he created.”

 

The Hound’s face twisted into a grimace. He leaned over the table at her and Arya leaned back till she almost fell off the bench.

 

“You want to know what I did to that inbred son of a whore, wolf-bitch? He started screaming for me to get down to the shore when they started ramming the gate. So I flipped him ass over tits onto the beach where they were really hacking the shit out of each other. Stannis didn't kidnap him, he's fish food at the bottom of Blackwater bay. So you can stop saying his name every night under your breath after your sister falls asleep.”

 

Arya lost her balance and fell flat on her back in the rushes. The Hound sat back down and barked out a laugh.

 

“Not much to tell after that,” he slurred. “The little bird was already at the stables when I got there and we fucked off. Just missed Tywin's troops from what I gathered. “

 

He dropped his empty mug on the table with a dismissive gesture.

 

“The rest you know.”

 

He stood up and leaned over the table offering her his hand. She took it and he pulled her off the floor. Arya’s head swam for a second and her stomach lurched.

 

The Hound turned to leave but then stopped.

 

“Oh, wait, one last thing before I piss, puke and pass out,” he paused to belch. “Hopefully in that order… Gods your fucking sister told me not drink so much, fucking tolerance is shit…. Oh yeah, listen wolf-bitch, I begged your sister when we got out to go to a hedge witch and get rid of the babe. No- listen, I wanted to fuck off to Essos but she wanted her family. There's no place for me with your bloody brother- but if she got rid of it, your mother and brother would never know. I could drop her off on their door step and we could go our separate ways. She could marry some rich lord and I could fuck off to the Free Cities, happy fucking fairytale endings all around. She refused. She screamed and yelled at me, tried to punch me, threw pine cones at me, cried… The little bird was so mad she made herself sick.”

 

Arya swayed where she stood. She couldn’t decide what she wanted to do more; punch him, or curl up on the floor and go to sleep. All she managed to do was hiccup loudly.

 

The Hound leaned over the table, his speech slurred; “She told me to do the right thing for the first time in my fucking life- yes, your sister said “fucking”- and so I did, I have.” His barred his teeth at her and snarled, “And those fucking golden haired shits in Kingslanding nor your family's fucked up sense of duty and honor is going take away whats _mine!”_

 

“Now you go up to room and bolt the door and climb in bed with your sister.” He waved her towards the stairs. “Once I get my self together I will sleep in front of the door. You hear anything; you get out the window and get to Maiden pool. Get on a ship to Pentos. When you get there ask for Illyrio Mopatis. Repeat that back to me.”

 

It took Arya few times, but she got it. Just then she was reminded of Jaqen telling her  _Valar Morghulis._ The coin was still in her pocket. She and Sansa could get to the safety of Essos without him easily, if need be.

 

“Good.” The Hound declared, swaying on his feet. “He's a friend of a friend who helped us get out of Kingslanding. I don't know what he wants but it'll be sure as shit a lot safer than here.”

 

With that he disappeared through the front door.

 

Arya managed to make it up the stairs by leaning heavily on the wall. She had drunk wine with dinner back in Winterfell and even had ale with Gendry, but she had never been this drunk before. The ground wouldn’t stay still (something she found very funny) and her tongue felt like old shoe leather in her mouth.

 

Staggering down the hall, she found Sansa in the only room without a bolted door. It wasn’t a large room and the bed took up most of the space, it was large enough to sleep five people. Sansa was asleep sitting up in the middle, propped up by a dozen pillows. She would have looked regal if it wasn’t for the fact her head had tipped back and her mouth hung open causing her to snore.

 

Arya found her sister’s snoring hilarious and climbed in bed giggling like a small child. Her head spun when she laid her head on her pillow and for a second she thought she was going to be sick. Instead darkness swallowed her and she mercifully fell asleep.

 

***

 

A crack of thunder startled Arya from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes, then wished she hadn’t. She suddenly became aware of her body; the light hurt, her stomach felt like it was full of weasels, her head was throbbing and her mouth felt like she licked a sheep.

 

Sansa stirred beside her.

 

“Oh gods, what is that smell?”

 

She felt her sister grasp a fist full of hair and pull her head towards her nose.

 

“Oh gods Arya! You smell like a Flea Bottom alley!”

 

Sansa dropped her head against the pillow. The world twisted and Arya leaned over the side of the bed in case she threw up.

 

Her sister shrieked behind her, “You got my sister drunk?!”

 

Arya felt the straw mattress shift as Sansa climbed off. She turned her head slightly and watch in wonder as her sister stomped over to the Hound were he slept curled up in front of the door.

 

“Damn it Sandor! You promised to stop drinking!”

 

When the big man didn’t respond Sansa kicked him in the ribs twice then stomped out the door. She seemed to have gotten over the pain from the night before.

 

After a few minutes, the Hound stirred on the floor and stood up. He stumbled over to the other side of the bed and sat down. Arya felt the mattress sag under his weight and heard him grunt as he pulled off his boots.

 

She attempted to sit up and imminently regretted it. Her stomach lurched and the throbbing in her temples intensified.

 

She laid back down.

 

“My mouth taste like vomit, my head hurts and I want to kill the next fucker that looks at me sideways," Arya mumbled. "Is this what it's like being you?”

 

Clegane was already stretched out on the other side of the bed asleep.

 

Arya laid down and relaxed against his back.

 

His body was so warm, she understood why her sister let him wrap himself around her and snore into her hair.

 

The gentle rhythm of the rain on the window above her head lolled her back to sleep.


	14. Inside Her Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya suffers from malaise, but receives some good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait between chapters. I promise the next chapter will be a lot lighter :)

Arya awoke in late afternoon in an empty bed. Her head still hurt and her stomach was queasy. But compared to the oh so familiar cramping in her back, her hangover would have been a mere inconvenience.

 

“Oh good, you're up!” Sansa said from the direction of the fire place. "I was beginning to worry."

 

Arya tried to stand up, but her legs gave out and she sank to the floor. She quickly righted herself, bracing her hand on the headboard. She flipped back the blankets and scrutinized the sheets to make sure she left no evidence of her condition. She’d rather sleep under the uncovered part of the stables than have the Hound know she was having her moon blood.

 

Sansa was sitting on a cushion in front of the fire place sewing a garment Arya had never seen before. Outside Arya could hear the roar of a heavy rain storm.

 

“Sansa, could you help me?” she pleaded, feeling hopelessly powerless over the workings of her body.

 

Her sister studied her for second and then ungracefully pulled herself to her feet bracing against the back of a rickety wood chair.

 

“I haven’t need things for that in a while,” she said sympathetically. “But the Inn Keeper has three daughters, let me go talk to her.”

 

Before she could react Sansa was out the door.

 

Arya went to the window and pressed her head on the cool glass. The rain was streaking down the glass making the view of the field behind the Inn ripple. She sighed and thought back to when she first flowered at Harrenhall. She knew it was only the fact she was passing as boy that she wasn’t forced to service the Mountain’s men. The thought made her sick. When she worked under Weese in the kitchens she would hear the bed warmers lament their fate in the wee hours of the morning. They would find their way back from the beds and crevices of the castle to the kitchen to forced food into their stomachs and drink all the wine they could get their hands on. The stories the women told scared Arya as much as the Rat Cook had when Old Nan told it to her as child. She would have rather been beaten by Weese everyday of her life than spend one night as one of those women. And she had hated Weese so much she had whispered his name to Jaqen H'ghar.

 

Arya had never put much thought into sex. Her mother and father had been very conservative in their affection in public and she was never forced to mingle with the court with its games of seduction while in Kingslanding. She always thought love and babies were for stupid dreamy girls like Sansa and Jeyne Pool. Arya always imagine that her father who indulged her so much in other unladylike pursuits would have allowed her to circumvent being married off to some stranger who would take her away from Winterfell.

 

She knew now that was just as silly a wish as having Southern waterfowl shipped up North to look pretty for one day.

 

She thought about her sister and the Hound. As much as he was a big dumb brute, at least Sansa had wanted to lay with him.

 

Arya wished she knew where Gendry was. It wasn’t the first time she had thought of him, but her mind would immediately shove any thought to the back in her head; the last time she saw him was too embarrassing to even reminisce over.

 

Still, she wished she would have said the right thing to calm him down. There seemed to be some hidden knowledge that came with having sex that alluded her. If sex wasn't such a big deal, then why was so much time spent on telling little girls they shouldn't do it? In her experience, anything adults told her she shouldn't do (like riding like a man, archery, sword play, pelting her sister with food in front of boys), had turned out to be a lot of fun. She wondered if she would ever see Gendry again. Maybe Sansa knew what to say to men so they would do what she wanted. Then again, if she remembered correctly, her sister's seduction of the Hound was not the least bit subtle.

 

Sansa appeared back in the room with a stack of small cut clothes, a plate of food and a hot mug of tea.

 

Arya’s melancholy must have been written on her face judging by how Sansa approached her.

 

“Drink this,” she said smiling sadly at her. “It’s willow bark tea. It will help with the pain.”

 

Arya took care of herself and tried to make herself more comfortable on the floor. Sansa went back to sewing the unfamiliar garment.

 

“Where’s the Hound?”

 

“Some men from the next town over asked for men to help build a levee to help keep the Red Fork from flooding with all the rain that has been falling. They promised a couple of silvers for the project so Sandor went with them.”

 

“What if that was trap? You said yourself you two aren’t exactly conspicuous.”

 

“I had my misgivings, but Sandor insured me he would be fine,” Sansa held the garment up to inspect her stitches.

 

Arya saw the garment was for a small child.

 

“Are you making something for the baby?”

 

Sansa continued her work. “No, I was sitting by the hearth in the common room fixing one of Sandor’s tunics when the Inn Keeper’s wife asked if I would do some mending on her children’s clothes in exchange for a meal. Then another woman asked me if I would fix her husband’s shirts for a couple of coppers.” She gestured to a stack of neatly folded tunics on the floor.

 

“Oh! I forgot, have some bread!” Sansa gestured to a plate on the table which held cheese, bread and apples. Arya descended on it even as her stomach protested.

 

“Wait a minute,” she said as her brain caught up with her mouth. “Why is Clegane working? Why are you working?”

 

Sansa was always supposed to be the grand lady who had servants to wait on her hand and foot. Arya didn't even know Sansa knew how to work.

 

“Sandor thinks we're broke,” she said simply. “Those outlaws stole all his gold. I wasn't able to pack more than few things on Stranger before they grabbed him and unfortunately his gold was left behind when I ran.”

 

Arya remembered how angry The Hound had been when Beric Dondarrion had handed him the receipt. Sansa seemed unrealistically calm about the whole situation.

 

“Why aren't you more concerned?” she asked.

 

“Because we're not broke,” her sister sighed. “He just never thought that I might have anything of value.”

 

Sansa put down her project and motioned for Arya to hand her the quilted apron she had worn till one day the ties couldn’t reach around her midsection. Sansa felt along the hem then popped a few stitches. She pulled out an emerald the size of a chicken’s egg from an interior pocket

 

“The Queen would give me jewels to wear at court, and then never ask for them back. I spent a month prying them out of their fittings and sewing them into here. The batting keeps them from being to obviously lumpy,” Sansa handed the apron to Arya who marveled at the ingenuity.

 

Sansa motioned for Arya to look as she fidgeted with the waist of her skirt. She pulled out a pouch on a leather thong sewed into the skirt’s waist. Inside was a gold disk the size of Sansa’s hand.

 

“I had my maid take the fittings to Steel Street and had them melted down.”

 

Arya turned the disk in her hand. There was a ghost of an image on one side, but she couldn’t really make it out.

 

“Joffrey gave me a big ugly gold pendant with a lion’s head on it,” Sansa wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I wish I could have watched it melt.”

 

Arya looked at her sister with new found respect.

 

“Sansa, there must be a fortune here.”

 

She smiled at her, “Yes. But don't tell Sandor. He needs something to occupy him or he’ll be drinking all day.” Sansa popped the gold disk back in it’s poach and made it disappear into her skirts.

 

Arya sighed,” First Joffrey, now the Hound, Sansa you have terrible taste in men.”

 

Sansa laughed.

 

Arya ate some more food, and relaxed against the bed. She decided she would be perfectly happy to never drink again. The conversation with the Hound floated to the forefront of her thoughts.

 

She couldn't think of a polite way of asking so she apt for directness, "Did you know that Clegane killed Joffrey?"

 

"Yes," her sister focused on her work.

 

"Why didn't you say anything?"

 

"Because he didn't have to, he just gets territorial and stubborn and wont listen to reason," her sister let out a very unladylike snort.

 

"So, you didn't want Joffrey to die? After all he did to you? To our family?"

 

Sansa sighed in frustration and turned to her sister.

 

"I had everything planned out and well in hand, then he almost ruined it all! " She wrung the garment in between her hands. "I love my husband, he knows what he's doing when it comes to matters of war, fighting and the politics of court. But he's too honest and thinks subtly and misdirection is a weakness. Well, its not and it's why the whole of the Lannister army isn't hunting us down right now. My only worry is that someone has figured everything out and decided that the subtly of a Faceless man or a Sorrowful man would be easier than risk altering Robb to our escape with  a troop movement."

 

Arya sat very still, and tried to comprehend everything her sister just said with a brain made fuzzy by alcohol and wild by pain.

 

"You shouldn't worry about a Faceless man, Sansa," she said finally.

 

"Why is that?"

 

"Just don't," Arya slipped her hand in her pocket and felt the reassuring weight of the Braavosi coin. "If you can be vague and expect me to trust you, then give me the same courtesy."

 

Arya and Sansa regarded each other. They had become strangers in their separation. Trying to understand the changes in one another sometimes led to an odd acceptance of unsaid experiences.

 

Arya dropped her eyes first, but only due to an involuntary twitch of pain.

 

Sansa smiled at her in sympathy.

 

"Could you get me some milk from the kitchen?" she asked smoothing out her project on her knees. "You might want to get more tea while you're down there."

 

Arya gratefully jumped at the distraction.

 

***

 

The common room was unbearably crowded when Arya made her way down the stairs. People were crammed onto every bench and stool. A fire jumped and roared in the hearth making the room unbearable hot and caused the damp patrons to steam in the small room. Arya felt her stomach flip flop from the smell of people, food and stale beer.

 

She slunk through a door way that she assumed was to the kitchen judging by the smell of roast chicken.

 

A plump woman stood in the corner barking out orders like a general as other lesser women scampered and scattered with trays of food, empty mugs and cleaning supplies.

 

Arya approached the plump woman with hesitation, she really wanted to limit her social interactions due to her current pain.

 

“Excuse me,” she tried to smiled. “I was wondering if I could get more willow bark tea?”

 

The woman turned to her and her face red face twisted in a sweet smile.

 

“Oh you’re the sister, of course love.”

 

Arya wondered what Sansa had told the woman to make her act so polite.

 

“Why is the Inn so full?” she asked as the woman poured hot water over herbs in a fresh mug.

 

“I guess you wouldn’t have heard yet,” the woman handed her the mug. “It’s been raining nonstop since late last night, but this storm’s from up North. So much waters been dropped the Red Fork has jumped it’s banks and trapped everyone to the south. If the stories are to be believed, the mud is so deep on the Riverroad that it breaks wheels right off of wagons and will snap a horse’s leg like a twig. They say the young wolf’s army is trapped at Riverrun and the Lions have been driven back to Harrenhall. They’ve even had to delay that high born wedding up at the Twins.”

 

Arya nearly dropped her mug.

 

“Robb is still at Riverrun?!”

 

The woman eyed her and Arya felt herself get light headed at her stupid slip up.

 

“That’s what I just said, girl,” the woman said as if Arya was feeble minded. “You should get yourself back upstairs and take care of your sister till that big aurochs of a husband of hers comes back from working on that levee. There’s all sorts out there,” she gestured to the common room. “And I don’t want any trouble from anyone thinking they could take any liberties with a young girl, even if she is dressed like a boy.”


	15. The Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nymeria takes care of some men from Arya's past. The Hound wants some time with Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate Rorge and Biter. I hate the way they make Brienne feel so powerless in A Storm of Swords and A Feast for Crows and what they did at the Saltpans that ended up being blamed on Sandor. So I have decided that they should be ripped apart by a direwolf. Arya is trying to find Gendry when she wargs Nymeria, but decides to take a detour. If you are squeamish, skip the text in Italics.
> 
> I still don't have a beta, so please let me know if there any series problems or typos.

_The rain had washed away his foot prints but she picked it up his scent a mere half day old outside a burned out village. Corpses hung in the trees and their smell made her pack attempt to pull them down._

 

_She didn’t stop them; who was she to deny them fresh meat?_

_She put her nose to the ground and swept through the ruined streets. The smell of ash muddied her senses, but his smell was undeniably still there._

_She waited till her pack was done stripping what subsidence they could off the dead bodies before urging them on._

_She kept to the high grass, the rain lashed down on them and a fork of lightening lit up the night sky. The storm was no deterrent, just an annoyance that caused one or two to pause and shake the excess water from their coats._

_It wasn’t long till they came upon seven men sitting in a ring under a grove of trees with no fire. Still meters away she dropped into a low crawl, her pack followed in suite as they crept closer, waiting for her to give the signal to fight or flee._

_“Fucking wood’s wetter than a Dornishman’s cunt,” snarled a voice that tickled the back of her mind; her_ other _mind, the wolf had never been threatened by a noseless man in a cage._

_“We should keep moving,” said a man who cradled his arm to his chest. He smelled of blood and rot.” We need to get some place dry.”_

_One of the men let out a hiss and she froze. She sniffed the air and focused on him. He smelled of wood rot and flesh left out in the sun._

_“Fuck that, if we’re stuck then Beric’s fucking stuck. If what that dead whore said was true then we’re a day’s ride from him. The Mountain is offering a sack of gold for each part of that cunt we bring back.”_

_She trembled all over with rage and elation. Once those men would have terrified her, but now they were nothing but meat. Their armor might protect their trunks, but their necks were uncovered._

_A wolf always went for the neck._

_She stalked them, watching to determine who was the weakest; she knew who had the strength._

_Her pack fell into line, and then circled around the men. There were twenty wolves and seven men. Their horses were hobbled nearby, nostrils fearing, standing very still in fear. They could smell the wolves, though not very well due to the rain._

 

_They would be eaten later._

_She positioned herself behind the man with no nose, he was the strongest, but the back of his neck was bare._

_He was hers._

_She leapt and the others followed._

_The man with no nose didn’t scream, didn’t curse, and didn’t plead; she was on his back before he realized what was happening. She was no human, so she wasted no time with hesitation or words, she had no need to kill him slowly; dead meat does not fight back. He curled forward from the impact, exposing his neck were his spine met his skull. She latched her jaws under his ears and bit down hard. He took in a breath and she thrashed her head back and forth till there was a satisfying crack and her mouth flooded with hot blood._

_She heard a wail of pain to her right and turned to see the pale man with sharp teeth holding her alpha male. His mouth opened impossibly wide and latched onto his neck. There was a sickening crunch and her mate went limp._

_She sprung off the corpse of the noseless man and hit the pale man in the chest, knocking him to the ground. She was heavier than him and she could feel his ribs straining as he tried to breathe with all her bulk on his chest. He reached up and grasped her ears trying to bring her head down to his mouth. She watched his jaws open wide, the smell of rotting vegetables and blood blew out from his gullet. His mouth was wide, but hers was wider. She opened her jaws and clamped down on his face. His flesh was like thick mud, but that did not stop her from ripping it from his skull._

_He didn’t scream, he just hissed and attempted to bite her till she tore off his lower jaw._

 

_He gurgled as he drowned in his own blood._

 

_She ripped open his belly, but the smell of his insides stayed her from feasting on the meat within._

_Around her men were dead or dying._

 

_They had lost three, but the men had lost all._

 

_Her pack happily feasted on the meat of men and horses._

 

_Even with the death of her mate, she felt triumphant._

_She threw her head back and howled. She sang long and loud into the rainy night._

 

_  
Come morning all that would be left was scarps for the crows and their foot prints in the mud._

_***_

Arya was awoken by a painful flick on her ear.

 

“Good morning she-wolf,” the Hound said when he noticed her eyes were open.

 

All three of them shared the big bed in the Inn; Arya and Clegane on the sides with Sansa in the middle.

 

The Hound leaned over her sister and flicked her ear again.

 

“Hey! Stop it!” Arya flailed an arm at him, but he caught it easily.

 

“Now that you’re up, get out,” he said before giving her a playful push.

 

Arya still had the taste of blood in her mouth. She felt more exhausted than she had been when she went to bed.

 

Yesterday Sansa had been thrilled to hear of Robb being delayed by the rain. Her sister had burst into tears and hugged her as they laughed in relief. They weren't going home, but at least they weren't going to be among strangers when they got to Riverrun.

 

As Arya held her sister in her arms, she felt a little poke in her belly. She pulled away and watched her sister's stomach.

 

"He's excited to," Sansa smiled and grabbed her hand to place it on her bump. Arya felt the baby kick again and giggled.

 

"Are you sure it's a boy?"

 

"It has to be, no girl would kick her mother this much!"

 

It wasn't the first time Arya had felt the baby kick. Sansa would sometimes put her hand on her stomach when it was really moving and when they were sleeping on the scratchy wool blanket out on the road, she would feel little pokes if she slept against her sister's stomach. Sometimes it would wake her up. She wondered if Clegane ever got poked in the night. It would make her very happy to know someone got away with punching and kicking the Hound.

 

Arya spent the day eating and lazing in front of the fire. The rain and the willow bark tea made her sleepy so she was dozing in bed when the Hound returned that night. He came back to the room after dark soaked to the skin and grumpy.

 

Sure that Arya was asleep Sansa had stripped him and hung his clothes in front of the fire. She heard them talking in hushed voices then heard her sister giggle followed by a growling noise out of the Hound. Arya was thankfully facing away from them, but she still couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.

 

_“I'm still awake!”_

 

Arya heard a gasp from her sister and a muffled curse from Clegane. She heard them have a whispered argument and then Clegane muttering under his breath as he searched through the saddle bags. Sansa crawled in bed next to her, but didn’t say anything. A few minutes later Clegane dressed in dry clothes slipped under the blankets on the other side of Sansa. He kissed her sister before pulling her back to his chest and fell asleep with his arm slung over her middle, his big hand on her belly.

 

Now he was poking Arya where her collarbone met her shoulder.

 

“Get out,” he repeated.

 

_If I was a wolf I'd rip off his arm._

 

Sansa wasn't helping.

 

“Arya, could you go get some breakfast?” 

 

Her sister was trying to give her an innocent smile, but Clegane's hand had disappeared under the blankets and Arya didn't want to think where it was.

 

“Please? Just for an hour?”

 

Arya pushed herself up on her elbow and felt a finger of cold air run up her back. The sun had not risen and the rain was still falling outside the window.

 

“No!” she spat. “It's freezing and I'm not leaving this warm bed so you two can fuck! Piss on that!”

 

“Besides,” she snarled at Clegane as she reached over Sansa and drove two fingers into the flesh above his collar bone (it felt like poking a stone wall, the Hound didn’t even flinch),  “the midwife said for you to keep your cock to yourself!”

 

“Fine,” replied the Hound with an ugly grin. “Stay.”

 

“Sandor!” her sister hissed and swatted his arm under the blankets.

 

The Hound scowled, and then rolled over in defeat.

 

When Arya awoke some hours later he was gone.


	16. The Hallway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has an awkward moment with the Hound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was thinking to myself, "How could I write a moment for Arya that would be as embarrassing for her as the Library scene in my other work Spark was for Sansa?" So I came up with this. For Arya, it would have to be a lot more graphic because she's tougher and harder to shake up than her sister. 
> 
> Total dick joke chapter, can be skipped if that isn't your thing.
> 
>  
> 
> I hope I didn't over do it. Much.
> 
> No beta, so I only have myself to blame.

Arya found herself alone in the room for once. She stayed in bed relishing the solitude till her bladder and stomach drove her out to the privy then the common room.

 

The Inn was more crowded than usual; wet men huddled around the hearth guzzling ale and laughing while dripping on the floor.

 

Arya made her way into the kitchen where she found her sister sitting out of the way on a chair that looked too fragile for her swollen condition.

 

The inn keeper's wife smiled at Arya and gestured at a tray of pasties before resuming barking out orders to the girls scurrying around the kitchen.

 

“Where did all those men come from?” she asked as she handed Sansa one of the very hot pasties. Even though the crust burned her fingers, Arya took a huge bite of hers and spent the next few moments breathing rapidly through her mouth in a vain attempt to cool the greasy meat threatening to melt her tongue.

 

“They're work men from the levee,” her sister said as she folded up the shirt she was fixing after wisely sitting the pasty aside to cool.

 

“A chunk of the levee broke off and slid into river so they decided to stop for the day before someone got hurt,” Sansa continued. “So they came here to drink.”

 

“I thought Clegane wasn't supposed to drink,” Arya said before burning the inside of her mouth with another bite.

 

“He's not out there,” Sansa replied watching with amusement as Arya contorted her lips in a desperate attempt to make her food cool to a palatable temperature. “He's having a soak out in the bathhouse.”

 

“You know if you just wait for it to cool you wouldn't burn your mouth,” Sansa said nibbling on the corner of her food.

 

Arya shrugged.

 

“I'm hungry,” she replied before taking another bite. She then grabbed Sansa's cup of milk and guzzling down half of it to counteract the burning food in her mouth. Her sister gave her a disapproving look.

 

“Will you bring these to the room?” she asked holding out a stack of folded clothes. “Sandor will need something dry to wear when he gets done.”

 

Arya shrugged, “Let me finish eating.”

 

She shoved the rest of the food in her mouth and chased it down with the last of Sansa’s milk.

Her sister gave her an incredulous look, as Arya gathered up the bundle and made her way out the door.

 

She walked through the common room dodging kitchen girls and patrons alike then mounted the stairs to their room. They were really lucky; the inn only had a handful of rooms, so those coming in to take shelter from the storm had to sleep on the floor or in the stable. She came to their room at the end of the hall and placed a hand on the door handle but was stopped short by the sounds of movement on the other side.

 

_Someone is in there._

 

Arya carefully opened the door a crack, if anyone had broken into their room, she didn't want to give up the element of surprise. She scanned the room and thought she movement by the fire place. She angled her head against the door frame to get a better look.

 

It was the Hound and he was naked.

 

Arya froze. Her mouth fell open and she could feel a blush creeping up her neck.

 

It wasn't like she hadn't seen naked men before; traveling with the Night’s Watch recruits had afforded all sorts of opportunities to see men naked. It wasn't like she hadn't seen muscular men either; a memory of Gendry’ form with his huge arms and chiseled chest flashed before her eyes.

 

But this was something completely different.

 

The Hound was a massive man just walking around in his armor, but stripped down his bulk seemed to be amplified. His entire frame was covered in black hair and criss crossed with white and pink scars. She could see the burn Beric Dondarrion had given him had healed to a shiny pink strip on his arm.

 

Arya tried to stop herself but she couldn't help her eyes from following the strip of black hair that ran from his chest, over his stomach and down to his manhood.

 

She could feel the blush travel up to her cheeks as she stared.

 

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen that part of a man before, she had even touched Gendry’s. When she traveled with the Nights Watch recruits she came to the conclusion that both boys and men were constantly preoccupied with their manhood, especially when they didn't think a girl could hear them. As far as she could tell they basically all looked the same (ugly, alien and floppy) just in different sizes and sometimes colors.

 

But what the Hound has was completely different. Arya wondered if this was what men actually hoped their manhood looked like.

 

The Hound scratched and yawned like a big, stupid, dog and flopped down on the bed. His hair was still damp from his bath and for a moment Arya was mad he was getting the pillows wet. He put his hands behind his head and sighed contently.

 

_I could knock on the door. He’ll cover up with the blanket and I could throw his clothes at him and leave._

She was going to do that, really she was, but then she heard him sigh again. His eyes were closed and he had a grotesque grin on his face. Arya stared in horror as she watched his manhood _change._ It started to swell and stiffen. She heard him groan then he spit on his hand wrapped it around his cock.

 

She knew what he was doing; every night on the road with the recruits she had heard boys wanking off. Then in the morning they would tease each other, as if every single last one of them wasn't doing it. She had learned to ignore the sounds but she never had seen the act in front of her.

 

Arya couldn't look away; not when he started stroking himself or when the tip of his cock started _leaking_ or even when he finished while groaning the pet name he had for Sansa.

 

She felt like her stomach was tied in a knot and there wasn’t enough air in the hallway.

 

The Hound steadied his breath, stood up and walked to the wash basin to clean himself off.

 

“Wolf-bitch?” he snickered.

 

Arya didn’t reply, but she did throw the door wide and stomped into the room.

 

“You won’t have to worry about walking in on me doing that again if you give your sister and I some time alone in the morning.” He turned to her, still naked, with a grotesque smile on his ruined face.

 

Arya dropped his clothes in the rushes.

 

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed. Then turned and tried to leave the room with as much dignity as possible.

 

She was sure she heard his horrible, raspy, barking laugh follow her down the stairs.

 

 ***

 

 “Arya, what's wrong with you?” Sansa asked when she returned to the kitchen and threw herself onto the hearth rug in front of the fire.

 

“Nothing is wrong,” she snapped.

 

“You're panting and sweaty,” her sister observed.

 

Arya said nothing. She suddenly wanted to scrub her mind with wine.

 

“You took those clothes to the room?” Sansa asked standing over her.

 

“Yes,” she snapped

 

“Was Sandor back from the bath house?”

 

Arya bit her lip. Her sister was a lot more observant than she wanted.

 

“Arya,” Sansa said slowly, “did you see Sandor naked?

 

“NO!” _Yes_

As if she could read her thoughts, Sansa’s eyes got wide and she gasped.

 

“ _You did!_ You saw him naked!”

 

_And beating off. He knew I was there and did it anyway!_

Sansa laughed, “There's a lot to take in, isn't there?”

 

“Shut up!”

 

“Have you ever seen a man naked before?”

 

“Yes! I traveled with the Nights Watch recruits, remember? Occasionally we would stop and the boys would take a bath in a river, but I never joined them.”

 

“But you've never seen a man naked like that before?”

 

_Lying in bed with his horse sized cock in his hand? No._

“No,” Arya blurted out. She looked at Sansa’s swollen belly. Sansa was taller than most women, but tiny compared to the Hound.

 

“How did… you and him…. He's huge!” Arya wished she hadn't spoken those words.

 

Sansa laughed. “I am fully aware of that!”

 

Arya made a retching sound and Sansa laughed harder.

 

She heard her sister sigh in exasperation; if it was directed at the Hound or her, she could not tell.

 

Arya felt her skin crawl thinking about what she just saw. She reached up and scratched at the louse bites on her scalp then considered if having a hangover would be worth drinking enough to not feel so _tense_ right now.

 

Sansa gently tapped her on the shoulder.

 

“I don’t know about you, but I need a bath. Could you help me wash my feet? They must be filthy!”

 

Arya looked up at her sister. Sansa’s belly was so big it almost eclipsed her face from where she sat on the floor.

 

Sansa had a wane, knowing look on her face. She looked exactly how their mother looked when she caught Arya doing something she didn’t want to admit to.

 

“Sure, fine,” Arya relented and stood up.


	17. The Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa shares some wisdom with Ayra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talk, no embarrassing nudity or dick jokes, more plot next time. 
> 
> BTW, you guys who commented on the last chapter made my day :)
> 
> Edit: I just realized I posted a working copy and not the final one. I've made some corrections to spelling and word choices but none of the dialog has changed.

The bathhouse was an underwhelming affair. It was built more like a shed with a stone floor slanted slightly for drainage. The floor was littered with buckets to wash in. The only saving grace was a tub large enough for both of them to fit, although it was probably meant more to hold water for horses than bathing. Clegane had been courteous enough to dump out his bath water and one of the kitchen girls had just finished filling it with new hot water. Arya barred the door behind her while Sansa fetched a cake of soap from a crudely hung shelf. They stripped down and hung their clothes on a hook before overcoming the obstacle of getting Sansa into the tub.

 

Sansa sunk in the water; her belly bobbed up and gave the appearance of a little domed island at sea. Arya dunked under and scrubbed at her scalp till she was sore. She took one of Sansa's swollen feet in hand and tried to wash off the grime as gently as possible.

 

“Sansa, I have bad news,” she said gravely as she tried to get between her sisters toes.

 

Sansa looked at her in alarm.

 

“I can’t tell where your ankles are anymore!”

 

Sansa gasped in exasperation and splashed her sister.

 

“So, what is it like?” Arya asked switching feet.

 

“Being pregnant or having sex?”

 

“Either, both, sex, I guess.”

 

Sansa chuckled, “You guess?”

 

“I’ve only had experience with one…”

 

Sansa’s eyes grew wide. “Arya! Did you…”

 

“Almost.”

 

“How do you “almost” have sex?”

 

Arya couldn’t help letting the words tumble out; “There was this boy I met while I was with the Night’s Watch recruits and he and I….. We were going to but when I touched him, he finished then fell asleep.”

 

Sansa put her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Arya.”

 

Arya dropped her sister’s foot back in the water and sighed.

 

“Then the next morning, I told him I wanted to try again and but he was scared that Robb would take his head, so he put on his clothes and ran away.”

 

She dunked her head under the water so she could avoid looking at her sister.

 

When she surfaced Sansa looked at her with pity.

 

“Oh gods, Arya, I am so sorry.”

 

Arya moved her hand back and forth under the water and watched the ripples on the surface.

 

“Have you ever gone through anything like that?” she asked quietly. “Was there something I could have said to make him stay?”

 

Her sister sighed, Arya watched her belly bob in the water.

 

“No, men can overreact very easily. When I told Sandor that he got me with child he drank himself into a stupor three days in a row. I found him sleeping in Stranger’s stall stinking of wine and vomit.”

 

“What did you do?” Arya felt a wane smile grace her lips.

 

“I paid a stable boy a stag to dump a bucket of cold water on him. When he was done cussing and yelling I told him I already had one baby to think of and wasn’t going to play nursemaid to another. Then I walked away.”

 

Sansa looked down into the water as her hand gently rubbed her belly.

 

Arya couldn’t help asking, “Is that why you made Clegane stop drinking?”

 

“No, when we were on our way to Winterfell after the Blackwater, one night he got incredibly drunk and morbid. I have no idea where he got the wine, I think he brought it with him but it takes a lot to get him drunk. He started trying to convince me to go to a woods witch….” Sansa let out a shaky breath. “So I screamed at him and threw things at him, then I cried myself to sleep. The next morning I woke up before him, put my knee in the middle of his chest and punched him in the face.”

 

Arya froze, mouth agape, eyes wide staring at her sister.

 

_Is this Sansa? Did the Grumkins steal my real sister?_

Sansa chewed her bottom lip. “You asked what it was like to be pregnant; you start losing control over your mind and body. I get so angry sometimes I can’t help it, I can’t keep anything inside anymore. It’s like the little person inside me is pushing out all my thoughts. The midwife, Nanny, she said your humors get unbalanced when you are with child so that is normal behavior. But I feel awful because I don’t have the control I had at court and almost got myself thrown in the black cells before we left.”

 

Arya couldn’t help herself, “So what was it like punching the Hound?”

 

Sansa blushed, “I hurt my hand.”

 

Arya laughed.

 

“He didn’t have a bruise, but my hand was swollen for a whole day.”

 

Sansa smiled at her. “In the end Sandor apologized and said he would try to stop drinking.”

 

Arya rubbed her face and watched Sansa wash her hair.

 

“So what is sex like?”

 

“Do you remember when Septa Mordane told us that sex was laying under our husband so he could have his pleasure and give us little children to carry on our house name?"

 

“No, I was probably thinking about something else and squirming.”

 

 Thinking back her lessons with her septa, Arya wondered how she even learned to read being such a horrible pupil.

 

“Well, she was wrong," Sansa declared. "Sex is amazing and woman can enjoy it to and it makes me sad that little girls are told they shouldn’t.”

 

Arya snorted. “I learned about sex listening to the bed warmers bemoaning their existence at Harrenhal.”

 

Sansa looked her sister in the eye and said, “I’m glad you did what you did with your boy, Arya.”

 

“Gendry, his name is Gendry.”

 

“Gendry. I’m glad you chose to do it with someone you loved.”

 

“You weren’t in love with Clegane?”

 

“No. I was grateful. He saved me and I was alone. I had been so manipulated and made to feel like I had no say in anything so I chose to go to him and give him something so no one could take it from me!"

For all of Sansa's bravado tears started running down her face.

"If Joffrey married me I would only know him for the rest of my life. If he set me aside, I could have been given to anyone the Lannisters thought fit to award with my body and my claim in the North. It could have been Lancel or Tyrion or even Tywin himself, like when poor aunt Lysa was given to Jon Arryn.” Sansa blushed and sank deep in the tub.

 

“Arya, you and I, as daughters of a high lord are virgin sacrifices. No one cares for us as people only to keep ourselves pure till one day we are told to spread our legs for the gain of our houses and bring forth children to start the cycle all over again.“

 

Sansa put her hand protectively on her belly.

 

“And if we chose not to, we are told we're willful or disgraceful or ruined. If I married Joffrey I would have spent my whole life being forced to allow him inside me, to let his seed grow in me and have little golden haired monsters that would expect me to love them; even though they would be the product of my content misery with my forever tormentor.”

 

“But this one,” she said smiling at her belly. “I chose who put him in me. And he's brave and faithful and loyal and loves me for more than what he gets in return. Every time we're together I don't feel ruined or ashamed or worthless."

 

Arya stared at her sister in disbelief. _When did you get so rebellious, Sansa?_

 

“They'd call us wanton Arya because we choose what happens to our bodies. But the fact is we are _wanted_ and I'd like to think father would be happy for us.”

 

Arya thought back to the story Edric Dayne had told her about their father and Ashara Dayne. She had been angry with him for suggesting that her father would want any woman besides her mother. Now she had a better understanding and felt a small sadness in her heart. It was almost like those sappy ballads Sansa used to beg the singers to play.

 

“So your life is finally like a song?”

 

“Oh gods no! the songs never tell you about how unreasonable men can be or how when you're with child you wet yourself when you sneeze and your feet swell so much your ankles disappear!”

 

They laughed.

 

Arya let her mind wander for a moment.

 

“We were never really told much of anything about how life works, were we?”

 

“You mean how we were never told how messy womanhood is? All I knew about sex when I got to court was that it had to do with making children. I had to find out everything from my maid who was warming the bed of Lord Tyrion and a man 12 years my senior who had always paid for women.”

 

“At least you had a guy with a lot more experience! Gendry didn't even last long enough to get his breeches off!”

 

Sansa laughed. “I’ve never had that problem.”

 

“Has Clegane ever forced you? The woods witch yelled at him for pulling you under him so much.”

 

“Oh gods that was embarrassing.” Sansa sank into the bath.

 

Sudden realization flooded her mind and Arya let out one of her most sardonic laughs.

 

“Wait…. Sansa…. _It was you!_ “ she cackled.” He’s not the one starting it, you are! You should have seen the look on his face!”

 

“I told you, it’s hard to control yourself when you are with child!” Sansa sat up. “Arya, I’ve been ravenously hungry, passed more wind than I thought possible and I’ve never been so wanton in my whole life!”

 

Arya laughed some more.

 

“So, I haven't had your problem but I have heard," she mimicked Clegane's deep raspy voice; "Damn it girl! Leave me be! Are you trying to kill me?”


	18. The Stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clegane and Arya kill a couple of hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another talking chapter, I hope there is enough character development and humor to make up for it :)  
> EDIT: there is also talk of sexual assault  
> Totally forgot to mark that in the original posting, sorry. Look for the ****
> 
> I swear by the old gods and new next chapter will be full of action and blood. But no boobs or dick jokes.

No one knew his name so they just called him Robin. (It seemed every boy born in the last fifteen years was named some variation of Robert). No one knew how old he was, he managed to walk easily enough but he couldn’t really speak. He was perpetually filthy, with crusty eyes and a steady stream of mucus flowing from his nose. He always had a wet rattle to his cough and a sour milk smell. He somehow managed to be sticky and slimy at the same time and left wet snail trails on everything he touched.

No one knew where he came from but the Inn keeper and his wife fed him and let him sleep by the fire. People said that either his parents were dead or had left him there because they couldn’t take care of him.

 

"War orphans," the inn keeper's wife explained. "There will be a lot more of them as winter sets in and they'll be drawn to warm places with lots of people and food."

 

Sansa would catch him at least once a day and scrub as much of the grime off as she could. Guest would sometimes give him sweets or apples as he toddled around the tables. Sometimes he would accidentally get knocked over or hit and would sit on the ground wailing till someone gave him a sweet. Arya had felt bad for him till one day he went to hug her and left a huge slimy spot on her shirt.

 

The Hound hated him. Robin seemed to be the only person in the inn who didn't have a healthy fear of Stranger or his master. Every time Clegane left their room it seemed that Robin would become especially underfoot and vocal in his wordless demands. In response Clegane constantly threaten to harm the little boy;

 

"Get out of my way or I will kick you down these steps!"

"Stop trying to reach for my food or I'll put you in a sack and drop you in the river!"

"Get out of that straw or I'll let my horse stomp you!"

 

He never made good on his threats, but some took him seriously and attempted to herd the little boy out of his path whenever possible. Arya knew if he was going to kill the little grub he would have done it by now, so just took the exchanges as a little entertainment to break up the monotony that had enveloped her life.

 

The rain hadn’t stopped in seven days. With the levee project finished the Hound was trapped in the inn more often than not. He would take Stranger out as much as possible but with the mud on the roads being so deep he rarely got further than the next town over. Sansa took in as much sewing as she could and Arya took to rising before dawn to help in the kitchens. She told herself that her early schedule had nothing to do with Clegane trying to embarrass her into giving him time alone with her sister. Instead it the discovery that helping the inn keeper’s wife bake bread yielded a rich reward. If Arya got up early enough to light the ovens and knead the dough, she receiving a whole loaf of fresh bread with a crock of butter to herself as payment. The simple pleasure of warm moist bread dripping with butter was better than anything she had experienced since she left Kingslanding. Sitting in front of the hearth fire going through her morning ritual of eating the fluffy middle, then crusts soaked with butter she resolved to never be ungrateful for her food again.

 

Unfortunately, her busy mornings left afternoons devoid of stimulation and her choices for entertainment were limited to balancing how much she could stand the crowded common room versus how much she could stand Sansa and Clegane alternating between bickering or being disgustingly affectionate in their room.

 

 ***

 

One afternoon in her boredom Arya watched as Robin sat under the covered bit of the stable stuffing dirt in his mouth and giggling. She heard the jingle of horse tack and looked up to see Clegane leading Stranger into his stall. Uninterested as to where he had been she refocused her attention on the little boy who seem to relish his earthy snack. Arya heard Clegane’s heavy boots behind her and looked up to see a look of horrid revulsion on his ruined face as he gazed down at the little boy. Robin looked up at Clegane, squealed then sneezed. A long thin sting of green mucus shot out of his nose and down his face.

 

The Hound made a noise in between a growl and a gag.

 

“You're going to have one of those soon!” Arya laughed.

 

“My pup won't be a sack of snot that eats dirt,” he snapped her with righteous indignation. “Your sister will see to that.”

 

“You know, you’re going to have to be around for it to,” Arya said seriously. “She can't do it on her own”

 

“I've been around babies before,” the Hound rasped.

 

“Joffrey doesn't count,” Arya countered.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because Joffrey wasn't human!”

 

The Hound let out one of his barking laughs. “Of course he was human, just not a very good one.”

 

“Aren't you worried about this baby?”

 

“That'll turn out like Joff did? No.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because your sister and I aren't twins, and your family isn't full of monsters.”

 

Arya made a face, “The rumors are true? The Queen and Jamie….”

 

The Hound didn't seem phased, “Yes.”

 

“You knew this whole time?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How? Why didn't you tell anyone?”

 

“The Lannisters do what they want. I knew my place.”

 

Before she could stop herself she whispered, “Why did you kill Joffrey?”

 

The Hound focused on her with a snarl on his lips, “Why do you care?”

 

Arya scrambled to her feet. “Because you murdered a boy you helped raise and now you’re having a baby with my sister!”

 

Clegane pinched the bridge of his nose as he did when he was trying to ward off an annoyance induced headache. She had seen the gesture often enough when he bickered with her sister. Arya knew she was getting to him.

 

"I killed Joffrey because he was going to die one way or another. He wasn't your sister's failure, he was mine and it wasn't her place to put him down no matter what he had done to her."

 

"You knew what kind of monster Joffrey was, didn't you?"

 

Clegane sighed and settled on a bail of dry hay in the stall next to his horse. Arya perched herself on an overturned bucket in front of him.

 

"Do you really want to hear this story, wolf-bitch? Are you really that bored?"

 

"I was watching a mute toddler eat dirt a few minutes ago," she said plainly. "Are you really so bored that you would tell it to me?"

 

The Hound regarded her for a moment then began;

 

"Joffrey was always testing what he could get away with. That's what happens when you're raised by nursemaids and septans.  Then one day he cut open a pregnant cat to see the kittens inside and Robert beat him bloody. You saw Robert, he was a big man, so with just a few blows he knocked out a couple of Joff's milk teeth, broke his nose, and blacked his eye. His jaw never healed right and if you looked closely you could see that his chin was crooked."

"Cersei had shrieked at Robert and held Joff while the Maesters reset his nose and held a raw steak to his black eye. For a week afterward she would be in the nursery every day to coddle him and help feed him- he couldn't eat solid food for a fortnight, but after a while she seemed to loose interest."

Clegane leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "I think she liked the idea of being a mother, but not the actual work. The Kingslayer liked fucking his sister but not the result, I doubt I saw him around his children more than a handful of times."

  
"People stopped giving Cersei attention over it so her visits became shorter and shorter till one day she stopped coming all together. Joffrey stopped speaking when she left. He would just sit in front of the door, staring at it till his nursemaid put him to bed."

Clegane rubbed the whiskers on the unburnt side of his face. "When you're someone's sworn sword you're nothing more than a piece of furniture with a weapon, propped up against a wall. So there I was, propped up against the wall inside this nursery watching this little boy with a black and blue face sitting in front of the door for days willing his mother to come back to him."

 

Clegane smirked at her, "Come now, wolf-bitch, even that would melt your black little heart."

 

Arya rolled her eyes and he continued.

 

"Then out of nowhere Joffrey turned to me and asked if I would ever beat him like his father did. I didn't know what to say, it was the first time in days the boy had said anything as far as I could tell. So I forgot my place and told him; "Only if I tell you not to do something and you do it anyway". Then he smiled as best he could with his broken face, and that was it." Clegane pinched the bridge of his nose again and sighed.

 

"It was a very good position," he said finally. "I wasn't too much older than your sister is now and I got paid to hunt and train and got away with treating the lord and ladies of the court like shit. Joffrey thought it was hilarious when I snapped at people and no one could do anything about it." Clegane smiled at the memory. "I was given a nice place to sleep, enough gold to drink, gamble and whore to my heart's delight and got away with telling people above my station to fuck off."

 

The burnt side of his mouth twitch, "Joffrey never pushed limits with me. Although he did skin Tommen's pet fawn to make a jerkin, but that was a stupid pet to give anyone...."

 

Arya watched him, he wasn't going to get out of this conversation without answering her question. So she decided to poke the dog.

 

"But then my sister came along and ruined everything, and you had to kill him...." she smirked at him.

 

The burnt side of his face twitched. "The worst thing that Robert ever did was die and put Joffrey on the Throne. I knew the day would come, but I had hoped Robert would at least have the foresight to know that putting a crown on Joffrey's head while Cersei lived would be a colossal mistake. She thought she could control him, she couldn't, she didn't even  _know_ him. Your father should have claimed himself regent, he should have taken Joffrey away from Cersei and let me knock some sense into him...."

 

Clegane leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "But he didn't; your stupid noble father trusted Littlefinger and supported Stannis and lost his head."

 

"Fuck you," Arya snapped at him and he barked out a laughed. She thought about stomping away in anger, but she stayed seated on the bucket.

 

"Your sister paid for your father's noble idiocy. When Joffrey started having the Kingsguard beat your sister I told him to stop and he told me no. I knew then he was gone. That little boy with the swollen mouth and black eye was going to take all his rage out on the world and the only thing that would stop him would be death."

 

When Clegane finished, the resulting silence between them was heavy; she could hear the rush of the rain outside the stable and the gurgling of Robin sitting a few feet away.

 

She studied the unburnt side of his face; even without the scars he would have been a far cry from the man she would have guessed her sister would have chosen for her husband. Arya knew he thought himself unreadable and perhaps to most people he was, but she could tell something was up; "You're holding something back, Clegane."

 

His eyes shot up to hers. She wasn't scared to look in his face.

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

"A few days before the Blackwater Joffrey tried to force himself on your sister," he stated calmly. It was disconcerting, the only time Clegane was calm was when something was going very badly.

 

Arya's mouth dropped

 

"Was she.... where you two..?" she sputtered sending globs of spit shooting off her lower lip.

 

Clegane scowled at her; she couldn't tell if it was because she should have known the answer or the fact some of her spit landed on his boots.

 

 "So where were you when all of this was happening?" Arya asked wiping the residual drool off her mouth with the back of her hand.

 

"Sleeping, I had the night shift and was not due back till supper. Your sister would always met me in my room when my shift ended, but she couldn't stay all day, so she'd leave after I went to sleep. I heard the story after I woke up. I still don't know the details, you sister won't talk about it so don't go badgering her about it. All I was told was that Joffrey got it in his head that if he raped your sister she would be worthless to Stannis. So he sent for her and when he tried, she bit him."

 

Arya hazard, "On his fingers?"

 

"No, think of the place a man would never want to be bitten."

 

_Oh_

 

She must have had a stupid look on her face because Clegane snickered at her. "Your little fire side weasel story reminded her of that and that is why she was sick in the forest."

 

Arya chewed her bottom lip feeling slightly guilty, but not really.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*****

"I still have no idea how the little shit got a hold of her; she was never to be in Joffrey’s presence without being chaperone by the imp or Cersei," Clegane continued. "He ordered her to be thrown in the black cells till he could execute her but the imp put her up in a room in the Tower of the Hand. I went to her when I could and she told me that she was going to make sure Joffrey wouldn't survive the battle. I don't think she meant for me specificity to kill him; but I was the one who failed to keep her safe and him under control, so he was mine to put down. "

 

Arya stared at the Hound for a long time.

 

"You feel guilty for killing a monster but not murdering an innocent little boy," Arya spat at him. Sometimes she forgot how much she hated him, and sometimes it came roaring back filling her with rage.

 

"You're still angry about the butcher's boy?" He threw his head back and laughed. "You're not going to do anything to me, wolf-bitch. Your sister and I are married, she's got my pup in her belly and you're a Stark to your soul. Stark's aren't kin slayers and no matter how much you hate it, you and I are kin now."

 

Arya knew this and it grated on her to no end.

 

"It's what your Tully mother will whisper in your brother's ear that worries me," Clegane said, his face loosing all amusement.

 

"Why didn't you trust my mother?" Arya had her own anxiety about reuniting with her family; she had killed people, she had traveled with outlaws through a war zone, she had spent time with prostitutes and soldiers. She had even used the services of a Faceless man. There was also Gendry. She missed him and there was no doubt her mother would not be happy to see her so familiar with a bastard boy. At least Clegane's family had land.

 

Clegane studied her face, "Family, duty, honor. All that horse shit. When your aunt Lysa was young Littlefinger got her with child. She kept it hidden very well but when she finally got caught your grandfather sent her to a woods witch to get rid of it. Made her crazy. Your brother might take our family seriously but your mother is more politically savvy than that. It would be so much easier to take my head and hide the baby, call it a Snow so your sister could marry some puffed up shit of a lord to get your brother more troops."

 

"You wanted Sansa to go to a woods witch," Arya retorted.

 

"I did, I was drunk and I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth. She wasn't far along though, not even showing. She just looked like she ate too many lemon cakes."

 

As much as she hated him in that moment, Arya couldn't help but smile. "Did Joffrey really have a song about how fat she was played at every meal?"

 

"No," Clegane replied looking annoyed. "It was once, by one singer and he couldn't play the lute very well after I crushed both his hands."

 

 Arya chuckled, but she couldn't let what he said about her mother's family go. "How do you know all this, about the Tullys?"

 

"I used to be Cersei's dog, remember? I had to follow her around and stand in the corner while she and her hens clucked over their embroidery. At first I would ignore them and sleep with my eyes open, but when I started to pay attention, it was amazing how much they knew about what happened to other people in private and how they used it against them. Never trust a group of women with a grudge and nothing to do. I always wondered how many men had their down fall planned over the stitching of pretty flowers."

 

Arya heard a rustling by the entrance to the stable and turned to see Sansa standing over Robin.

 

"Oh my darling, just look at you!" Sansa cooed to the child before scooping him up and setting him on her hip. She had regained her strength since they arrived; three hot meals a day and all the sleep she wanted on a real bed was apparently all she needed.

 

Sansa spied them; "I'm just going to give Robin a bath and then have a snack. Would you two care to join me?"

 

"I'll be in for food, little bird," Clegane replied as he stood and stretched, then muttered under his breath,"but I'm not touching that gruesome little larva."

 

"Are you coming, she wolf?"

 

"No," Arya was still digesting everything that had been said. Besides watching Sansa daintily eat a whole chicken in one sitting had lost it's novelty.


	19. In The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News from Kingslanding, danger in the common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter due to the original one getting too long so I had to break it up.

It took another week, but the rain finally stopped.

 

Arya burst out of the inn on that first glorious, sunny morning and promptly got stuck in the mud.

 

It didn't stop her from stomping around the yard in front of the inn like a small child who had been given too many sweets.

 

_Fuck this rain, fuck this inn, fuck having to share a bed with someone who snores and farts loudly and Clegane!_

 

The sun on her face made her feel more alive than she had in weeks. More than that, the sun meant she was finally one step closer to going home.

_***_

 

“We’ll leave the day after next," Clegane said that evening lounging on the bed. "The roads are still thick with mud, we should wait for them to dry a bit. “

 

Arya sat on the room's solitary chair as Sansa cut her hair with a pair of clippers that where probably better used to shear sheep. It took forever because her sister was so meticulous making sure the hair was even on both sides.

 

“I also want to see if anything new has come out of Kingslanding,” he continued, biting loudly into an apple. “There should be new people coming through here with current news.”

 

 

The next morning Arya and Clegane sat in the common room nursing mugs of cider and listening to the conversation around them. Clegane had his hood pulled low and Arya’s fresh short haircut made her look like a boy if you didn’t look very close. _  
_

 

"It had been so much easier to hide before I grew teats", she mumbled miserably, making Clegane laugh.

 

Sansa, having spent most of the day napping and chatting in the kitchens joined them for dinner.

 

“The word is that the Queen has somehow pinned Joffrey’s death on the Imp,” Clegane told her between mouths full of stew.

 

Arya expected Sansa to make a show of remorse for someone unjustly being accused of a wrong doing, but her sister didn’t so much as blink.

 

“Any news about Tommen’s wedding?” her sister asked.

 

“Postponed till after the trial, little bird. Although they say that some of the guests had already arrived when Cersei had the Imp arrested.”

 

“You know it will end up being a trial by combat; Lord Tyrion will never get a fair trial in Kingslanding otherwise.” Sansa said matter-of-factly. “ _You_ know who Cersei will pick as her champion.”

 

Arya watched them exchange looks. Clegane looked angry.

 

“I don’t suppose _you_ know who will fight for the drawf?”

 

Sansa’s face was an unreadable mask.

 

“I cannot say”, she said softly.

 

Arya piped up; “I heard that supposedly Sansa and I are in Kingslanding, locked up in Maegar’s Holdfast like a couple of stupid princesses in a song.”

 

“Why do the Lannisters say we're there?” Arya asked Clegane and snatching another roll.

 

“They don't want anyone to know you're gone,” he replied turning from her sister. “They don't know for sure if the Kingslayer is free and they're not taking any chances letting anyone know you’re no longer a hostage to be used as a bargaining piece.”

 

They got quiet again. Sansa stopped eating and was staring into her cup of milk.

 

“So how long will it take to get to Riverrun?” Arya said a little louder than she meant to.

 

Clegane picked something out of his teeth with his fork (much to her sister’s disgust) and replied, “Too fucking long with Stranger carrying you two and me walking. So I’ve been thinking, once we settle up here, let’s get you a horse, she wolf.”

 

Arya squealed in glee, making Sansa laugh.

 

“Don’t get too excited,” Clegane said. “With how much money we have, we might get lucky enough to afford one that will wait till we’re in sight of the castle before dropping dead.”

 

***

 

Arya drug the last of the saddle bags down to the stable and laid them in the hay next to Stranger. She dodged his halfhearted kick and left to go sit in the sun behind the inn. All three of them had overslept, so instead of leaving at first light they were packing well into the afternoon.

 

Arya sat down in the lush green grass and gazed out into the horizon. She could make out the Red Fork in the distance; a shimmery ribbon running through the rolling hills. All they had to do was follow it and they would be at Riverrun.

 

That is, after she got her horse.

 

Later in life during her darkest moments, Arya often regretted lollygagging around in the grass that afternoon. She sometimes wondered if she had gone back to the room right away, they would have left sooner.

 

Late at night in their bed Gendry would hold her when she awoke from the nightmares, whispering reassurances and wiping away her tears.

 

Arya never forgot the feel of the cool grass under her hands as she pushed herself to her feet; or the warmth of the fire as she nonchalantly walked through the back door of the inn and through the strangely empty kitchen into the common room.

 

She had almost made it to the stairs when a sound made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

 

“C’mon there, don’t fight,” came the voice she wish she never heard. “If you’re calm, it wont hurt as much.”

 

Then the laughter. That horrible chorus of men’s voices she had buried deep in her mind.

 

Arya didn’t have to look, she knew who was there, what they were doing, what they would do if they knew who was upstairs. Her legs felt like they were made of lead as she tried to run up the stairs.

 

It took an eternity to get down the hallway to their room. When she finally made it, Arya burst in the door and bolted it behind her.

 

Clegane was standing over a wash basin using a tiny mirror and a sharp dagger to shave the stubble off his good cheek. Sansa was serving a lunch of eggs, apples and bread on the table. She looked up at her.

 

“Arya? Are you okay?”

 

Arya could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She almost cried at how peaceful the scene before her was; a wife laying out lunch, a husband shaving his whiskers, the window was open letting in bird song and a fresh breeze.

 

 She turned to Clegane and ruined it all;

 

“Your brother’s men are downstairs!”


	20. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya, Sandor and Sansa attempt to escape the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part one of the fight with The Mountain's Men. I chose to break it up because the second part ended up super gory and bloody so I wanted to isolate it to a separate chapter people can skip if they need to. I asked myself "How would Quentin Tarantino write the fight?" and the result made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. I'm thinking of rewriting it.

 

The Hound’s voice was soft; “Arya, take off your clothes.”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“You have to take them off, please.”

 

 

“ _No!”_

 

 

Arya regarded Clegane in the dying light. He wasn't more than a few meters away. He wasn't wearing anything more than his small clothes.

 

 

“ _Just because I've seen you as naked as your name day, doesn't mean you get to see me!”_

 

 

_“For fuck's sakes! Arya you’re trying to wash your clothes while you’re still in them!”_

 

Arya stood waist deep in the Red Fork. Clegane had managed to get most of the by products of the fight out of his hair and off his skin. She, however just stood in the river in an ever spreading cloud of blood, shaking from the cold water and the after effects of adrenaline.

 

 

“Turn around and I will hand them to you,” she acquiesce between chattering teeth.

 

Clegane turned around, the water was halfway up his thighs. Arya crouched low in the river and stripped off her tunic then wormed out of her breeches and flung the sopping garments at her goodbrother. They landed with a wet slop in the water next to him. He gathered up her clothes before they sank and tossed a bar of soap over his shoulder. She dove for it as he waded back to the shore where Sansa was crouched in the shallows scrubbing the gore off his clothes.

 

Arya ducked down into the freezing water and scrubbed at her skin till she burned. The blood from the Tickler had soaked her to the skin, but it was the girl's face that she saw when she closed her eyes.

 

_She wanted mercy…. it wasn’t me… The Hound did it…. he’s done it before… she was nothing to him... It wasn’t me…._

 

Arya surfaced and let out a scream that faded to a sob. Sansa jerked up from her crouch.

 

_How many more have to die so I can go home?_

 

Arya was numb as she sloshed to shore, she no longer cared who saw her naked. Sansa ran from where she had made a fire and wrapped her cloak about her shoulders.

 

The Hound never looked at her as he rummaged through the saddle bags. He pulled out a pair of breeches and a tunic. He tossed the tunic at Arya, it was quilted for wear with chain mail and she great fully pulled it over her head. It was warm but it swamped her. One of her shoulders poked out of the neck hole and she had to gather up quite a lot of fabric in the arms to access her hands.

 

Sansa took one look and burst into laughter.

 

“What's so funny?” Arya asked trying to hand Sansa back her damp cloak.

 

“Do you remember when we were little we visited Rob and Jon and Father at the hunting lodge in the Wolf Wood?”

 

Tears rolled down Sansa’s cheeks as she chortled; “Robb stole something of yours, or said something to you and you chased him around the forest till you tripped on a log and snagged your dress and fell right in the mud! You even got mud up your nose! Mother was so angry! We were just there for the afternoon and so you had to sit next to brazier while Jory rode home and got you a new dress. Father had to give you his spare tunic to wear! It was so big on you!”

 

Arya rubbed her nose. All she could smell was blood.

 

“I remember Sansa,” she whispered.

 

Sansa was nearly hysterical with laughter; “Then when Mother made Robb apologize, you hit him right in the stones! Mother and Father were so angry! He couldn't ride till the next day!”

 

Arya tried to laugh, but it was hollow and forced.

 

Sansa couldn't stop laughing. She sat down hard on the ground and used the knuckles of one hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. With the other hand she tightly held her swollen belly as she started to shake.

 

Clegane crouched next to her and rubbed his hand up and down her spine.

 

“She wolf, go get your sister some water.”

 

Arya grabbed one of the water skins and ran down to the shore to fill it. When she returned she heard Sansa shrieking;

 

“… you both were covered in blood! They were your brother’s men! _They weren't supposed to be here!"_

**Earlier**

 

No one spoke. It seemed the birds stopped singing.

 

“Where are they?” Clegane asked wiping the remaining lather off his chin. Sansa was frozen in place; she was so pale she looked like a doll.

 

“In the common room,” Arya whispered. “They have one of the inn keeper’s daughters.”

 

Sansa gasped and put her hands to her mouth. Tears fell down her face.

 

“We can't help her, can we?” she whimpered.

 

Arya looked at Clegane.

 

_Don't be a fucking hero; get us the fuck out of here._

 

“No, little bird,” he said quietly. “If we're lucky they'll be distracted enough we can get out.”

 

Sansa bit her bottom lip but nodded.

 

“She wolf, start tying those sheets together,” he said pulling on his armor. “We’re going out the window.”

 

Arya pulled the sheets off the bed as Sansa helped the Hound gather his armor. They had packed food and supplies earlier; now it was just a matter of getting to the stable and away as fast as possible.

 

Arya shoved the shutters open and wondered how a man as big as the Hound would fit. If he got through she guessed he could jump. A sudden realization hit her like a fist to the stomach; she could climb down some sheets, the Hound could jump, but Sansa couldn’t. The ground sloped down from the back of the inn making it a far drop. Arya dangled the sheet rope out the window; it stopped a good ways from the ground. Arya spun around the room looking for something to tie it to. The bed’s frame wasn’t heavy (she was impressed it hadn’t fallen apart when Clegane climbed into bed at night) and the chair and table were too flimsy.

 

“We have a problem,” Arya managed.

 

“Oh gods, what now?” the Hound snarled at her.

 

“The sheet won’t reach the ground,” Arya explained desperately trying not to let the panic reach her voice. “Even if you jump down first to catch her, I don’t have the strength to boost Sansa out the window, let alone lower her to you.”

 

Clegane cursed and Sansa bit her lip in thought.

 

“We could hide!” Arya blurted out. She knew it was a stupid plan but she felt she needed to say _something_. Not having a plan was terrifying.

 

“Amazing idea wolf-bitch,” the Hound rounded on her with the full brunt of his anger. “Now let's come up with a plan where your pregnant sister isn't in the same building as my brother’s fucking pets!”

 

“Would you two stop fucking fighting and listen to me?!” Sansa snarled at both of them. Arya and Clegane stared at her outburst.

 

Her sister took a deep breath through her nose and spoke,” How we get out of here is simple. Sandor, hold the bed sheet out the window so Arya can climb down, then hand her your armor before jumping down yourself.Then both of you meet me in the stable and we shall leave.”

 

Sansa took out her scarf and tied it over her hair before rubbing ashes from the fireplace on her face and back of her hands. She looked like a swineherd's wife.

 

She looked at them and growled, “Well, get moving!”

 

“What about you?” Arya hazard.

 

“I’m going out the front door,” she said simply. She plucked an apple from the table and walked out into the hall.

 

Sansa crouched down and waved the apple in front of her cooing, “Robin? Do you want an apple?”

 

The little boy was sitting in the corner. He sucked his thumb while considering her offer.

 

“Come here Robin,” Sansa smiled and waved the apple at him. The boy finally toddled over and Sansa smoothed his hair as he rolled the fruit between his grubby hands.

 

With one quick motion Sansa grasped Robin’s ear and twisted it hard. The little boy looked at her in shock, bottom lip quivering, before taking in a giant breath and letting loose an ear splitting wail. Big blobbery tears streamed down his cheeks as he took another great breath and continued to howl. Sansa scooped him up and set him on her hip.

 

“Go you fools!” she hissed and waddled down the stairs to the common room.

 

Arya ran out into the hallway after her, but stopped at the top of the stairs. She could hear loud complaints from the men yelling at Sansa to get the screaming toddler away from them. Arya heard the front door open then shut and Robin's cries faded away. She could hear the voices returning to normal and conversations resumed. None of them had noticed Sansa, they just wanted rid of the screaming child.

 

“Fuck me! She made it!” Arya whispered as the Hound dragged her back into the room by the elbow and boosted her out the window.


	21. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Sandor vs. The Mountain's Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violent and full of lines from a Storm of Swords that I haven't marked to keep from disrupting the story's flow.

Arya rolled with her landing, but managed to gain her footing in time to dodge the Hound’s sword and helm hitting the ground.

 

“Watch it, asshole!” she hissed at him.

 

He landed a few feet away and smirked at her.

 

She had forgotten how huge the Hound was fully armored. It was a welcome sight; there was no question if they got caught every single one of his brother’s men would die.

 

Arya checked her boot, the dagger Gendry had made for her was still there.

 

It shouldn't have taken more than a few minutes to get to the stables. But luck was not with them; when they turned the corner, they ran right into a big man pissing against the wall.

 

He was large, almost as large as Clegane and but not heavily muscled. He had a thick, black, spade-shaped beard that was neatly trimmed, covering his jaws and jowls. He looked like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t losing his hair.

 

_Polliver._

 

Arya tried to choke back the rage. She wanted to run up and stab him, she wanted Clegane to take his head before he saw him, but mostly she didn’t want him to be there and she begged every god to make him disappear.

 

The Hound must have read her thoughts; she saw his hand twitch to his sword, weighing his actions. Polliver’s back was to the stable and Arya couldn’t see into the gloom.

 

“Ah, Sandor,” too late the man looked over at them. “Looking for your brother? You just missed him.”

 

The Hound didn’t twitch.

 

“Oh? Was he here?”

 

“No,” Polliver put his cock away and laced up his breeches. “The Queen summoned him to Kingslanding to kill the drawf’s champion.”

 

Polliver looked at Arya. She willed him to not recognize her.

 

“Who’s this?” he asked and Arya let out a breath.

 

Clegane didn’t look at her; “I never bother with names.”

 

Polliver snickered.

 

“Come in and have a drink.”

 

He turned to Arya, “Maybe we could learn your name.”

 

Polliver turned and walked back into the inn. Arya saw it then; hanging off his belt was a long, skinny blade. Too long to be a dirk, too short to be a sword, the blade was thin with a small grip.

 

Arya made a noise in the back of her throat.

 

_Needle._

 

“Go to the stable,” the Hound growled at her. “Get your sister out of here.”

 

“No.”

 

He grabbed her arm and dug his fingers in hard enough to bruise.

 

“ _What do you mean, “No””?_

“Where are we supposed to go? How long do you think we’ll last without you?” she snarled back. “Sansa can’t even _run_!”

 

Arya look up at him, never blinking, teeth clinched.

 

_Kill them. Kill them all or we’re going to die._

 

The burnt side of his mouth twitched and he dropped her arm.

 

They fell into step as they walked to the door.

 

***

 

The common room that had been recently so full of life and noise was eerily quiet as they entered. It seemed darker; the fire in the hearth had burned down to coals.

 

The innkeeper was behind the bar, head down, wringing his hands till the Hound sat at a table and barked “A flagon of wine with two cups.”

 

The man nearly tripped over himself to bring over the drinks. The Hound dropped a couple of coppers onto the rushes.

 

When the inn keeper bent down to retrieve them, Arya whispered to him;

 

_“Run!”_

 

The inn keeper looked to the corner by the hearth. Arya heard a soft whimper, the Tickler sat there with a girl on his lap. Arya couldn’t see her face, but her shoulders where shaking. Raff the Sweetling sat next to a young boy, he must have been a squire judging by his age.

 

“Fancy seeing you here Sandor,” the Tickler said. Arya felt an icy finger run up her spine.

 

His voice conjured up memories she had tried to bury. In the back of her mind she heard the screams, Gendry begging her not to look, she felt his strong hands holding her face to his chest as the questions were asked;

 

_Is there gold hidden in the village?_

_Silver, gems?_

_Is there food?_

_Where is Lord Beric?_

_Which of you village folk aided him?_

_Where did he go?_

_How many men did he have with him?_

_How many knights?_

_How many men-at-arms?_

_How many bowmen?_

_How many were horsed?_

_How are they armed?_

_How many wounded?_

_What banners did they fly?_

_Where did they go?_

 

“Is this the puppy that pissed in the rushes and fled the Blackwater?” the squire asked, his voice cracking making him fail to sound menacing. Raff the Sweetling grasped his shoulder and shook his head.

 

“Don’t mind him, Sandor,” said Polliver seating himself across from them. “The lad’s drunk.”

 

“Then he shouldn’t drink,” the Hound said plainly as he poured wine into the two cups.

 

Arya took a sip of hers and grimaced at the sour taste. She looked over at the Hound’s cup and felt a wave of relief; the level of wine hadn’t changed, he was just pretending to drink.

 

“Ser said his puppy brother ran off with his tail between his legs when the battle in Kingslanding got too hot,” the squire snickered. Raff the Sweetling hit him upside the head and he let out a yelp of pain.

 

The Hound wasn’t paying attention to him, his eyes were fixed on the big man in front of him.

 

“That’s what everyone says,” Polliver said leaning on the table. “Except for Lord Tywin, that is. He says you left Kinglanding and took something that didn’t belong to you. Before your brother left he told us to find you and ask you nicely to give her back.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re going on about,” the Hound replied.

 

“Ser said he got a raven saying you took the princess, Winterfell’s daughter when you ran off. You were more than likely taking her to the Young Wolf,” the Tickler clarified. The girl in his lap shook harder.

 

“Does that look like a princess to you?” said the Hound jerking his thumb at Arya. She shot him a look but forgave him for being an asshole due to the circumstances.

 

“No,” replied the Tickler a smile blooming on his face. “We didn’t even know if that big, black horse in the stables was yours when we got here. But then I asked this wench nicely,” he bounced the girl in his lap, she made a sucking sound, “she said you were here and there were two girls with you, one was a pretty red head who had a big belly on her.”

 

“Ser said if you gave her up, you could come home and Lord Tywin would be merciful,” Polliver said, his hands disappearing under the table.

 

“Bugger that. Bugger him. Bugger you.” The Hound tensed. Arya swallowed hard and then held her breath, waiting.

 

“Is it a pup or a lion cub?” the Tickler asked. “I need to know what to do with it when I’m done.”

 

The Hound’s eyes flickered over to him and Polliver took the momentary distraction to stand up, sword drawn.

 

The Hound managed to deflect the first blow while gaining his feet. Arya dove under the table, pulling her dagger from her boot. She would later thank the gods for Polliver’s leather boots; if he had been wearing armor, she wouldn’t have been able to cut the big tendon in his calf making him falter.

 

He screamed and Arya had to move as he collapsed. His body went one way, his head the other. She looked down at his belt; _Needle! Needle! Needle!_

But the big man had fallen on his side, pinning the sword under his bulk and Arya couldn't move him.

 

She heard someone behind her and turned to see the squire with his sword drawn. He tried to say something to her and she took advantage of his distraction to stab him in the stomach. As he went down screaming, Arya remembered something from her dreams; _Dead meat doesn't fight back._

 

She turned to the sounds of steel on steel and saw the Hound driving Raff the Sweetling to his knees. The Tickler pulled a slim knife from his belt and flung it at the Hound. If he hadn’t bent to throw his weight behind the blow that took Raff the Sweetling’s head, the blade would have taken him in the throat. Instead it grazed his neck.

 

Arya snapped. In her mind she heard the screams, heard Gendry’s pleas for her to not look at what was happening….

 

She was looking now; her gaze never faltered even as she jumped on the Tickler’s back like an animal. She never blinked as she dug her fingers into the back of his head. She watched as her first stab with her dagger went into his cheek instead of his neck and when she pulled it out it ripped half his face open.

 

Arya gaze’s never wavered, even when she got blood in her eyes. She was screaming as she stabbed him in the back over and over;

 

_Is there gold hidden in the village?_

_Silver, gems?_

_Is there food?_

_Where is Lord Beric?_

_IS THERE GOLD IN THE VILLAGE?_

Arya held onto him as he fell to the ground, never relenting in her attack. Soon the flesh under her was mushy and she could see white in some places. It wasn’t until Clegane picked her up by pinning her arms to her sides did she ceased in her assault.

 

“Arya, you need to stop,” he growled in her ear. “There is nothing left but meat!”

 

He dropped her on the ground and she saw he was right; above the waist what was left of the Tickler looked like a wild animal had been at him.

 

Shaking,  she walked over to were Polliver laid and tried to roll him off Needle again. The Hound flipped him over like he weighed nothing and Arya picked up Needle. She studied the sword then stared at the Hound for guidance.

 

“There’s one left,” she said gesturing to the squire whimpering on the floor.

 

They both heard a sucking sound from the corner.

 

“Two left,” the Hound said.

 

They focused on the squire. He begged for his mother and for someone to fetch a maseter.

 

The Hound pointed to the left side of the squire’s body with his sword.

 

“That is where the heart is,” he said, then drove the blade into the boy’s chest.

 

Arya turned and made her way towards the girl who had been in the Tickler’s lap. She froze when she saw her face.

 

It was one of the inn keeper’s daughters. Arya remembered her as the one with a head full of songs and tales, much like Sansa had been at her age. She was the one who fell in love with a merchant’s son and told everyone he was going take her away when he left. But he vanished with the rain and Arya had joined in when her sisters had called her a silly girl while they baked bread one morning.  She had been pretty, not beautiful but pretty, but now Arya could barely look at her. What the Tickler had done to her face was nauseating.

 

_If they hadn't seen Stranger….If we had not overslept….. If I came in instead of laying in the grass they would have passed by….._

 

The Hound was standing over Arya.

 

“It would be a mercy,” he stated.

 

Arya watched a blade slide into the girl’s chest and she breathed her last with a look of acceptance on her face.  

 

Later in her life during the day, with her rational mind, Arya would remember it was the Hound’s sword that had pierced the girl’s heart. At night though, when her mind was not so strong it was Needle that went into her breast, always Needle.

 

***

 

They found Sansa in the stable standing next to Stranger. She had Robin on her hip, he look bored. She had a cut on her cheek and her right hand arm was bloody to the elbow. Clasped in her hand was a metal hook used to clean horse’s hooves.

 

“It’s not mine,” she told them as they walked in. That's when Arya saw the body.

 

“He tried to pull me out of the loft,” her sister explained. “He tried to hurt Robin to get me to come down, so I jumped on him.”

 

Sansa then saw Arya and screamed.

 

Clegane grasped her chin and pulled it up so she looked him right in the face.

 

“None of that is hers, little bird.” Then he pulled her to him and kissed her.

 

Robin ruined the moment by squawking.  

 

Clegane let Sansa go and turned to Arya.

 

“She wolf, help me go through their saddle bags and you can pick out a horse for yourself.”


	22. Near the Red Fork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tells Arya how she escaped the night of the Blackwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a monster of a chapter, so I cut it in half. The next part will be posted tomorrow.  
> Sorry if these are sloppy, I have some RL stuff happening so I don't know if I will be able to post on the weekend like I usually do.

Arya couldn't remember how they got down to the Red Fork, she just remembered Clegane pushing her into the water.

 

“Wash up she-wolf,” he ordered. She found herself unable to do anything except stand in the river till he snarled at her to take her clothes off.

 

 

Arya could tell her sister had been desperately trying to hold her wits together. The strength of Sansa’s fortitude held as she killed a man to save a toddler and saw her husband and sister covered in the blood of monsters, but snapped when Arya jogged loose an old memory of their father.

 

Arya did feel a tad bit envious when she returned from filling the water skins to find Clegane holding her sister in his arms, comforting her.

 

“They're dead, Sansa," he said into her hair. "Gregor is in Kingslanding, he's far away from here and his men are dead. Your sister and I are not hurt.”

 

“They weren’t supposed to be here Sandor!” she cried pressing her face into his tunic. “They were supposed to be back at your brother’s Keep or at Harrenhall! Tywin knows Sandor! Varys told him! We should have never trusted him! I should have let you kill him when he caught us!”

 

“Little bird,” he spoke calmly held her tight. “If it was Varys, then how is the Imp still on trial? Why do people still believe he killed Joffrey? Why were those Wildings still around Joffrey when I threw him over the battlements? Why were we allowed to leave the city?”

 

Sansa stopped crying for a moment, “Are you really defending Varys?”

 

Clegane barked out laugh, “Oh buggering hells, I think I am!”

 

Arya cleared her throat and held out the water skin. Sansa took it and drank deep.

 

“Tywin knows I took you because he’s not stupid,” Clegane explained. “You covered our tracks very well with Dontos but I warned you Tywin would see through something like that. He would put it together that your disappearance at the same time as my so-called desertion meant we left together. You played your part very well, no one would think that the dainty princess of Winterfell would run off with Joffrey's burnt dog. But Tywin is smarter than to dismiss an idea because other people couldn't think it was possible. As long as Shae keeps her mouth shut then we should be safe.”

 

“Do you think he’ll torture her?” Sansa asked, her tears threatening to come back.

 

“His best torturer is dead. I think she is smart enough to keep herself out of sight." He took the water skin and drank deep.

 

“I almost wish Stannis won,” Sansa said rubbing her red eyes with her knuckles.

 

“The only good that would have come from that would be if he let his red witch burn Littlefinger,” Clegane said handing the skin back to Arya.

 

Arya sat on the ground in front of them and pulled the large tunic over her knees.

 

“What happened?” she asked grateful for the distraction.

 

“I prayed for the gods to send me a savior,” Sansa said leaning against Clegane. “Instead I was sent Ser Dontos, a man so stupid and drunk he couldn’t remember to put on breeches and small clothes before he came before the king! So I made my own way out, but I never forgot the drunken fool. Even after I dismissed his promises I kept meeting with him in case I failed and he became my only hope to get away from Kingslanding.  Sometimes he would let things slip when he tried to reassure me he had my well being at heart."

 

Sansa sighed in exhaustion, "One of the things he repeated over and over was that he had a friend with a ship who was supposedly going to help me escape. But the ship would not arrive till after the battle with Stannis. Why would I need rescuing _after_ Stannis took Kingslanding? Stannis would negotiate with Robb- _yes he would Sandor_!- and who’s to say he wouldn’t execute Ser Dontos because of his ties to the Lannisters?"

 

Clegane, reassured of Sansa’s mental state placed a kiss on her cheek before rising and busying himself searching for something.

 

“So I deduced he knew that Stannis wasn’t going to take the city,” she continued. “The only way that Stannis could lose was if Tywin came back with a large host. The quickest way to do that was to align yourself with someone who was already ready for battle with a large army. “

 

Sansa motioned for the water skin and drank it dry.

 

“I had taken to spending time with Lady Stokeworth; she thought I was soft in the head and would have made a good friend for Lollys, the poor dear. One night over dinner she had too much wine and told me Petyr Baelish had left the city to go treat with someone on behalf of the King.  It had to be Aunt Lysa in the Vale or the Tyrells in the Reach; the Tyrells hate Stannis because they blame him for Renly’s death and Aunt Lysa is in love with Lord Baelish.”

 

“I don’t know who half these people are, Sansa,” Arya said with a shake of her head.

 

Her sister shrugged.

 

“All that matters is that the only person who knew for a fact that Stannis would be driven back was the one who knew a larger army was joining the fight. And that would be the one brokering the deal; Petyr Baelish.  Which meant Ser Dontos was working with Lord Baelish, and I shouldn’t trust him to take me away. But he was easy to manipulate because his mind was soggy with wine more often than not.”

 

Sansa wrinkled her nose, “But I had to make sacrifices to get information out of him. He used to try to kiss me and put his hands on me. It was awful!”

 

The Hound stopped what he was doing and stared hard at her sister.

 

“You failed to mention that, little bird,” he growled.

 

“It matters not,” Sansa replied. “Shagga cut him in half with an axe when we met at the armory.”

 

She turned back to Arya. “What mattered was that Queen Cersei and all the people who took shelter in the Maiden Vault during the Battle of the Blackwater saw me leaving with Ser Dontos. They would think he was the one who helped me escape and hopefully not believe I ran off with Sandor.”

 

Arya rubbed her nose. She ached all over now that the adrenaline had left her body, but she still had the energy to be impressed with Sansa’s cleverness. She suddenly wondered what her sister would think of her escape from Kingslanding and the subsequent events.

 

She couldn’t tell her though, it sounded like her sister used her wits to manipulate her way out. Arya had used her sword and a highly trained assassin and _boiling soup._

Arya didn’t want Sansa to see her as a monster that liked when she heard a person she hated was torn open by his dog. Even the Hound had some sort of twisted honor that dictated giving a person a clean death with steel.

 

Sansa broke her out of her dark memories; “What happened in there, Arya? Why were you covered in blood?”

 

Clegane interrupted, “Little bird, you need to keep an eye on _that_ since you insisted on bringing him along.”

 

He pointed at Robin who was happily alternating between gnawing on a stick and smacking it on the ground.

 

“Oh!” Sansa blushed. “Sorry.”

 

Clegane  helped her to her feet. She went to Robin and took the stick away much to the little boy's loud protest.

 

Clegane tossed Arya an apple, a hunk of cheese and some bread. Arya gratefully bit into the apple, then the cheese but paused at the bread. She had baked it that morning with the inn keeper’s daughters. She stared at it in her numb hands till the Hound ripped it away and consumed it in a few bites. Arya didn’t realize she had been shaking all over till she stopped.

 

 


	23. In Star Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's confession to Sandor Clegane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part of what was once a massive chapter. More story/bonding time with Arya and the Hound.

 

Arya couldn’t sleep that night. She and Clegane sat an arm’s reach apart; he, sharping his sword, she, digging in the ground with the stick Sansa had wrestled away from Robin. Sansa was curled up with the little boy on the other side of her husband, snoring softly. Earilier they dodged Sansa's question by busying themselves with tending the fire, washing clothes and taking inventory of supplies. Sansa focused all her attention on Robin with a cathartic fervor.

 

Arya and Clegane sat in silence by the fire. The night was clear and a million stars twinkled over head. She could smell the crisp scent of the river, frogs and crickets sang by the water.

 

Sandor Clegane broke the silence. His voice was quiet as to not wake Sansa, but deep enough that it jerked Arya out of her stupor.

 

“Was that the first man you killed?” 

 

Caught off guard she answered truthfully; “No.”

 

“It has been a while since I’ve seen someone go that berserk,” he continued concentrating on his blade. “And that was only in the heat of battle.”

 

Arya look up at him; the flickering light from the dying fire made his scars seem to ripple like the waves on a calm shore.

 

“Have you ever done that?” she asked.

 

“Not for a long time,” he replied, looking sideways at her.

 

Arya refocused on the fire. She was still wearing nothing but his tunic, her clothes hung in the trees drying in the cool night breeze. They were stained beyond salvaging but she didn’t care.

 

Arya pulled her knees to her chest and pulled the tunic over them. She snaked her arms out of the arm holds and wrapped them around her bare legs.

 

“That wasn’t even the first of your brother’s men that has died because of my actions.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Arya couldn’t help it, she opened her mouth and every single event since Meryn Trant had disrupted her lesson with Syrio came tumbling out.

 

Clegane was silent as she told him about sneaking out of the Keep, living on the streets of Kingslanding, watching her father die, Yoren cutting her hair and then joining the Nights Watch recruits in hopes of getting home. Her voice got hoarse as she spoke of the men who came for Gendry, the battle with Amory Lorch, the death of Yoren, getting caught by his brother’s men and being marched to Harenhall. Then she told him all about Jaqen H'ghar, the three owed deaths, the weasel soup, the escape and ending up with the Brotherhood without Banners. The only time Clegane faltered was when she told him about Roose Bolten taking Harrenhall; he froze with the whetstone half way down his blade and she could see his jaw tighten. She almost asked him what was wrong, but a moment later he was back to his work.

 

When she finished, Arya felt light headed. But felt the need to explain her behavior in the inn spurred her on.

 

“I saw what the Tickler could do at Harrenhall. I knew if anything would happen to you, he'd do it to Sansa just for fun. Afterward they hand her and me over to your brother.”

 

The Hound turned to her. The burnt side of his mouth twitched. “I have had nightmares about those rats ever since we left Kingslanding.” He turn back to his blade, but he had stopped sharpening it.

 

“Gregor would catch up to us and tie me up so I couldn't fight. Then he would make me watch as he and his pet rats raped and tortured your sister,” he said softly.

 

“Never tell your sister what happened at Harenhall,” Sandor Clegane said suddenly. “She wouldn't be able to handle it.”

 

Arya had no intention, but felt she needed to defend her sister, “She's stronger than you think.”

 

“I know what she is capable of; she kicked one of the Mad Huntsmen's cronies in the face, she killed a snake as long as she is tall with a stick and tore the face off a man who tried to steal her from camp. She put a hoof pick into Dunsen’s eye when she can barely lift herself off the ground. “

 

Clegane dropped his sword on the grass next to him and leaned back on his elbows. The cut the Ticker’s blade had given him on the back of the neck oozed blood through the haphazard bandage.

 

“I still don’t have the whole story of what complex scheme she perpetrated in Kingslanding to escape. But from what she has shared, she’s far more dangerous than anyone has ever imagined. But the second anything threatens her family, she goes to pieces and becomes completely irrational.”

 

Arya regarded him, her head cocked.

 

“Why do you think she sent me back to get you?” he smirked. "It was a stupid idea, those swineherds that called themselves knights could have feathered me like a chicken and she would be alone in the middle of nowhere. I've watched her go from a stupid little bird with a head full of songs to someone smart enough to set up Tyrion Lannister for murder. She's amazingly level headed now, just not when it comes to you, or  me, or the baby. 

 

The fire died down. Arya looked up; the moon had risen bathing them all in a queer white light.

 

"Go to sleep," Clegane told her before stretching and putting an arm over his eyes.

 

"I can't" she replied. "I have to say my prayer."

 

"Those names you mumble when you think everyone is asleep? Are you naming everyone you hate?"

 

"No," she retorted. "They're people I'm going to kill."

 

The Hound snorted. "So who are they?"

 

Arya took a deep breath; "Queen Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Joff-, Meryn Trant-"

 

" _Ser_ Meryn is dead." Clegane said.

 

"What happened?"

 

"He hurt your sister so I killed him in the training yard one morning," he sighed as if he was describing a slight annoyance.

 

Arya faltered but contenued "Polliv-, umm.... Armory Lorch, The Mountain."

 

Clegane scoffed, "I think your sister has robbed us both of that one."

 

"Do you know what she has planned?"

 

"No."

 

Arya sat back on her elbows. "That is it."

 

"Queen Cersei, Ilyn Payne, Armory Lorch and my brother."

 

Arya nodded, amazed on how short it had become. "You were on there once."

 

"Hmmm, too bad for you your sister crawled in bed with me and not the Knight of Flowers."

 

He snickered at her. Arya gave him a dirty look in the dark.

 

"So what happens when you run out of names?"

 

She hadn't considered that. "I don't know."

 

"I wonder if Cersei would have done things differently if she knew what kind of vengeful hell-beasts Ned Stark's daughters would become due to his death," Clegane chuckled.

 

"Piss off!" Arya hissed.

 

Clegane chuckled again, "Is that anyway to talk to your goodbrother? What would your septa say about your manners?"

 

Arya remembered Septa Mordane had a lot to say about her manners.

 

"Fine! Please kindly piss off!"

 

Clegane's big shoulders shook as he kept in his laughter as to not disturb Sansa.

 

“Go to sleep she-wolf," he said finally."We have four, maybe five days to Riverrun. If you fall off your horse from exhaustion, I’ll tie you to the saddle.”


	24. The Wain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya, Sansa and the Hound make it to Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter I had to break up, next one will be up tomorrow!
> 
> And yes, Gendry will be back :) I promise!

The Hound had procured the wain on their second day when it became very obvious that Sansa was too big to ride properly. Even sitting crossways in front of Clegane her stomach had become too cumbersome for him to comfortably hold the reins. When she sat behind him she couldn’t wrap her arms around his middle and was forced to hold onto his cloak which caused it to choke him.

 

Clegane called for a halt midday then rode away promising to come back with a solution before nightfall. Sansa didn’t seem worried, just grateful to be off the big horse and set about walking in small circles to try and return the blood to her numb backside.  Arya wanted to refresh her Water Dancing skills now that she had Needle once again, but ended up wrestling random sticks and rocks away from Robin least he choke to death and upset her sister.

 

They stayed hidden as best they could and were only disturbed once by a small boy and his father leading a scrawny cow. Sansa quickly and politely put them at ease, then traded the hidden skin of wine for some milk. All three of them drank it down with Sansa taking the largest portion.

 

“There is a fire in my belly constantly,” she told Arya. “Sometimes I dream of the little pup inside me. He’s built a cook fire and is roasting the food I eat. It’s why I crave meat so much.”

 

Arya felt her face contort in disgust making her sister laugh.

 

“I told you, my humors are off balance and I have to be wary of thinking bad thoughts, least it settle in the babe,” Sansa smiled rubbing her belly. “But sometimes I wish I could just pull the little bugger out and leave him with his father till he’s old enough to walk and use the privy by himself!”

 

Arya did laugh at that, but silently hoped she would never have to bumble around with a little person twisting inside her.

 

As promised, Clegane returned driving a wain full of salt pork and apples pulled by two sorry looking mules around dusk.

 

Upon returning Sansa took one look, crossed her arms and demanded to know where he got it. He merely stated the owner no longer had use for the wain nor the peasant garb he had acquired to cover up his leather and mail. Arya didn’t want to mention that dead men usually had no use for their clothes or food, but really didn’t want to put up with the bickering it would cause between her sister and Clegane.

 

The first day riding in the back of the wain felt as luxurious as the Queen’s wheel house. Sansa sat with her back against Clegane’s as he drove, devouring the pork at an alarming rate. Arya alternated between riding her recently acquired palfrey and sitting in wain rolling a bruised apple back and forth with Robin to keep his squawking to a minimum.

 

Unfortunately, by the evening on the second day Clegane could barely move his head without hissing in pain. The cut on his neck from the Tickler’s blade had failed to heal.

 

“It’s not scabbing correctly so it will need to be burned,” Sansa told Arya out of ear shot of her husband.

 

Arya trusted her sister’s medical knowledge; she had actually paid attention during Maester Luwin lessons instead of staring out the window, wishing she could be out riding.

 

“You shouldn’t have traded the wine,” Arya sniffed.  If boiling wine didn’t work, at least the Hound would be easier to burn if he was slowed by drink.

 

Sansa remained steadfast in her decision. Although her plan for the current problem seemed ridiculous; “I need you to distract Sandor, and then restrain his legs while I burn his wound.”

 

Arya looked over her sister’s shoulder at the big man. “You can’t be serious.”

 

“I am,” Sansa said with conviction. “He won’t hurt me, so I will wield the fire. I just need your help taking him by surprise then holding him down.”

 

Arya let out a barking laugh, but acquiesced hope that her sister was right.

 

That night when Clegane was sitting a fair ways from the fire, Sansa made to look like she was busying herself with cooking while Arya pretending to play with Robin. Her sister nodded at Arya as she picked up a stick with a glowing red end. Arya was at a loss as what to do so she walked in front of the big man and began to jump up and down.

 

“Look at me Sandor!” she shrieked.

 

Clegane looked at her wide eyed. She never called him by his name.

 

“What in the seven hells are you doing, girl?” he barked at her.

 

“Distracting you!” Arya cried and dove for his legs, wrapping her arms around his knees to keep him from kicking. Sansa struck fast, pressing the glowing stick against his neck. The Hound roared.

 

He bent over in pain and called her sister some extremely course and ugly names, but Sansa didn’t react.

 

Arya rolled off his legs as he curled up in a ball, panting and sweating. After a few moments Sansa brought a water skin over to him and sat by his head, gently caressing his face.

 

“If you ever do anything like that again, little bird,” he choked out. “I will kill you.”

 

Sansa smiled and whispered to him, “No, you won’t.”

 

***

 

 Days later Arya was snapped out of a doze when Robin poked her in the eye with one of his sticky fingers.

 

“Get off of me you little toadstool!” she said swatting his chubby hand away.

 

Robin seemed extremely amused at her irritation and clapped in delight.

 

Arya sat up and rubbed the sticky apple residue off her brow. Sansa was curled up on her side, her head pillowed by Clegane’s cloak, sleeping with her mouth open. Arya climbed up to sit next to her goodbrother as he drove the wain down the muddy road.

 

“Are we there yet?” she asked miserably.

 

“How many times are you going to ask me that, wolf-bitch?”

 

“Till the answer is “yes”.”

 

Clegane mutter some horrible curse under his breath. It had been a day before he spoke to either of them and when he did it was usually a snapping retort. He finally calmed down, mostly due to the occurrence of more soldiers and the growing need to be inconspicuous. Over his mail and leather he wore the rough home spun tunic and breeches he had acquired with the wain. He also wore a soot grey cloak, splattered with mud and slimy in spots were Robin had played with it. The hood was pulled low to hide his face. Arya wondered in her boredom if Clegane had wandered the Riverlands looking for a farmer his own size to rob. Sansa constantly wore her head scarf over her hair. Arya found herself so easily acting like a boy she wondered if she would know how to stop when they got to their mother.

 

Even with the excitement the days were running together and Arya found herself dozing off again when Clegane elbowed her in the ribs so hard she nearly fell off her seat.

 

“Yes! We are there now!” he laughed. Arya looked where he pointed: as they rounded a tree lined bend, she could see the turrets and walls of a great castle standing at the juncture of two massive rivers that glittered in the afternoon light.

 

Arya let out a whoop and threw herself into the back. She crawled over to Sansa and shook her awake.

 

“We’re here! Oh gods we are here!”

 

Sansa sat up and wrinkled her face in confusion. Arya hugged Robin to her chest, even as the toddler squirmed and protested.

 

Her sister climbed up to sit next to Clegane, who put an arm around her middle and pulled her close.

 

Then her sister ruined Arya’s happiness by pointing out; “We still have to get in.”


	25. In the Presence of the King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family reunion that does not end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! They finally made it to Riverrun!
> 
> There are some lines taken directly from A Storm of Swords, but I have not marked them as to not disrupt the story

As they drew closer to Riverrun, Arya’s heart fell; streaming out of the castle was a line of solders and mounted knights, all heading North.

 

She let out an unintentional sob. _We’re too late; Robb is leaving for the Twins!_

It was Clegane who calmed her down.

 

“She-wolf, look at the banners.”

 

“I never paid attention to heraldry,” she admitted.

 

Clegane sighed; “Those banners belong to the River Lords, which mean the Northern forces haven’t left yet.”

 

Arya looked at him puzzled.

 

Clegane pinched the bridge of his nose and growled.

 

“It stands to reason that the River Lord’s banner men would leave first because they have been delayed going to a River Lord’s wedding. Your Uncle Edmund is _a River Lord_ , not a _Northman_. The Northmen could give a shit that a River Lord is marrying another River Lord’s daughter, so they will be the last to leave. Your brother is probably planning to go back North afterwards and his bannermen are not going to turn down free food and drink at the expensive of someone else.”

 

Arya felt a little better, but not really.

 

“Now, we just have to find someone to get us to your brother….”

 

Suddenly Sansa perked up.

 

“Hullen!”

 

“Who?”

 

“Arya, remember the master of horse from Winterfell?” Sansa asked turning as much as she could to her sister. “He used to call you “Arya Underfoot”? The day we were supposed to leave Winterfell, he got sick from eating those dodgy sausages in a bun from Wintertown and had to stay behind.”

 

Arya took in a breath, she did remember him.

 

“I saw his son with the Brotherhood without Banners!" she blurted out. It could work, the master of horse was always welcomed in their home, and hopefully Robb had brought him with when he came south.

 

Sansa gestured to the horses; Stranger and Arya’s palfrey were stripped of tack and tethered to the wane (Stranger in the back, the palfrey along the side to avoid fighting).

 

“We’ll tell the guards that the horses are a present from Lady Whent and we need to see Hullen.”

 

“Lady Whent hasn’t been seen since the start of the war, little bird.”

 

“Minisa Whent was my mother’s mother, they’ll believe us,” Sansa beamed. “Haven’t my schemes worked so far?”

 

Sansa slipped her arm around Clegane under his cloak and snuggled against his side.

 

Arya grimaced and rolled a squishy apple to Robin, much to the sticky worm’s delight.

 

 ***

 

They were almost to the drawbridge when they were waylaid by a mounted knight and his men.

 

“State your business,” the knight had a black pitchfork on a golden bar sinister, upon a russet field. Arya had no idea who he was and hoped Sansa’s plan would work.

 

“Salt pork and apples for the Tulleys, ser,” the Hound mumbled his head down looking as humble as Arya had ever seen.

 

Sansa had wrapped her hair up tight under her scarf. She sat holding Robin behind Clegane, eyes turned down. Arya sat at the very back, ready to jump out and run to the stables the second they got past the drawbridge.

 

“Salt pork never pleases me,” the pitch fork knight grumbled. The same could not be said of his men; they opened up the casks and rummaged through the bags pulling out food stuffs.  Sansa had wisely crammed the saddle bags behind her back and the Hound had hid his sword under the seat. His snarling dog helm was at the bottom of a bag of apples, which thankfully was unmolested by the knight’s men.

 

“How did you come by these horses?” the knight demanded.

 

“M’lady Whent bid I bring them as gifts for m’lord Tulley,” the Hound growled. Arya couldn’t blame him; she wanted to poke the pompous ass with Needle.

 

The pitch fork knight wrinkled his nose at them; "She thinks she can buy back Harrenhal with a few nags? No fool like an old fool!"

 

He and his men laughed but declared them free to go. His men took their fill of food and followed as he rode away.

 

“Ser Donnel Haigh," the Hound grumbled. "I once near killed him in a melee.”

 

"Too bad," Arya whispered. "Next time, try harder."

 

Clegane chuckled then put the whip to the mules. They crossed the drawbridge without incident.

 

***

 

The court of Riverrun was crawling with people, wagons and horses. It was easy for them to abandon the wane and make for the stables. Arya led her palfrey in front with Sansa carrying Robin and Clegane leading Stranger behind.

 

Arya almost burst out of her skin as she tossed the reins at the first stable boy she saw and barreled through the rows of horse stalls, scrambling to find a familiar face.

 

She finally spied Hullen barking orders to a gaggle of stable boys running to prepare the horses for the march.

 

Arya couldn’t help it, she ran full speed at him and wrapped her arms around his middle.

 

“Now what's all this then?” he bellowed in surprise, before grasping her by the back of her tunic and dragging her in front of him.

 

_Please know me, please know me, please know me!_

 

The gods were listening for Hullen's face grew pale under his beard and he blurted out:

 

“Arya! Arya Underfoot!

 

She couldn’t help it, Arya burst into tears.

 

***

 

As they walked through the halls of the castle Arya felt excitement crawl under her skin like a thousand ants. It had been so long since she saw her mother or Robb; would they even know her? Would they know Sansa? Would they kill Clegane?

 

Hullen led them through a labyrinth of hallways and stairs up to Robb’s solar. He exchanged polite nods with people who passed by, but none seemed to know who they were. She had to admit, for such a large man, Clegane could make himself very inconspicuous sometimes.

 

Just when she thought they were lost they came to a long hallway that ended in a door flanked by two guards. One had a sword and wore the bright red and blue of Riverrun. The other was a woman in dark green with an axe slung on her back. Hullen let out a sigh of relief.

 

“Dacey,” he said with a smile.

 

“Hullen, what brings you up here?” the woman smiled back and let her eyes wander over the people behind him.

 

“M’lady Whent sent two horses for Lord Tulley’s wedding,” he replied a bead of sweat dripping down his face. “I just wanted to bring these good folk up here so they could tell m’lord themselves.”

 

The Riverrun guard glared at them, especially Clegane even though he still had his face covered.

 

Dacey studied them for a heartbeat. Arya tried to rack her brain as to who she was; there was no way she was from the Riverlands, they were too proper to let women carry weapons, especially one as crude as an axe.

 

Robin decided at that moment that he was done being carried and started pulling on Sansa’s scarf while squirming. A small tendril of red hair came loose as Sansa tried to wrestle the toddler still.

 

Arya bit her bottom lip and turned to the guards. The man was still scowling, but the woman smiled.

 

“Let them in,"she said to the man.

 

He looked at her as if she was crazy and she let her hand snake to her axe.

 

The Riverrun guard glared at her, but still opened the door.

 

“Should I go get Lady Stark then?” Dacey asked as Hullen passed by her.

 

“Aye” the man said, his shoulders slumped in relief. “That you should.”

 

Robb’s solar was airy with tall thin windows that made the room bright with afternoon sun.

 

Hullen, having done his part, retreated and stood against the far wall.

 

Robb was deep in conversation over a large table with a huge man with a bushy beard and an older man who wore simple clothes but obviously commanded respect. They were so preoccupied with their planning, none looked up at their entrance.

 

Arya, at a loss as what to do next was grateful when Sansa loudly cleared her throat.

 

Three heads snapped up, two in confusion and one in surprise.

 

“Who in the seven hells are you and how did you get in here, boy?” rumbled the large man at Arya.

 

Robb rose and put a hand on the man’s arm, staying him from any action. He walked around the table and stopped a few feet from where they stood.

 

“Arya?” he whispered. “Is that you?”

 

Before she could reply, Grey Wind leapt out from underneath the table and hurled himself at her. Arya cackled in delight as she wrapped her arms around his neck and squealed unashamedly as he licked her filthy face.

 

He had grown massive since she last saw him; he almost knocked over Sansa with a similar greeting and was large enough that when he jumped up on Clegane he could place his paws on the big man’s chest. Direwolf and Hound regarded each other. The tension was broken when Clegane ruffled Grey Wind’s neck fur and the wolf decided not to eat him.

 

Many things happened at once; Robb scooped Arya off her feet with a tight hug, the two men around the table stood up and approached Clegane and the door swung open with a bang. In filed their mother, a man who could only be their uncle and a small pretty brunette who could have been their new goodsister, Queen Jeyne.

 

Their mother let out a high wail that froze everyone in place and descended on both her daughters gathering them close. Arya unashamedly rubbed her filthy face on her mother’s dress and sobbed in relief. For a moment in her mother’s arms Arya felt like she was home. While it wasn't in Winterfell, for the first time in a long time she was safe.

 

The moment didn’t last. Her mother froze when she felt Sansa’s big belly between them. Arya could feel the breath leave her mother’s body as she held her oldest daughter.

 

Arya let go of her embrace and stepped back, bumping into Robb who was rooted to the floor with shock.

 

Catelyn Stark’s face was a mask of disbelief as she placed her hands on her daughter’s swollen stomach. Sansa had the good sense to put Robin down before hugging their mother and Arya swooped  in to pick up the little beast before he could get caught up in the maelstrom  that was sure to come.

 

Robb was the one who broke the silence as he finally noticed Clegane standing over Sansa;

 

“Who are you good ser, that I should thank for returning my sisters?”

 

The Hound pulled his hood back so his face was visible to all, then put a large hand on Sansa’s trembling shoulder.

 

Not even Robin made a noise. Out of the corner of her eye, Arya saw Grey Wind slink underneath the table.

 

Their mother looked from Clegane to Sansa, to Sansa’s belly then back again. Arya wished she could nonchalantly slip under the table with the direwolf as Lady Stark’s face contorted in anger.

 

“Uncle,” she said slowly to the elder man standing near Clegane with his hand on his sword. “Please inform Lord Frey that neither myself nor Robb can attend Edmure's wedding. We have had an emergency within the family. Do not send a raven. Tell him yourself. We need him to not postpone this wedding.”

 

 “No one is to breathe a word of any of this to _anyone_ outside this room,” she hissed. “My daughters are not here. Neither is Sandor Clegane. Nor is anyone pregnant. Do I make myself clear?”


	26. In the Presence of Lady Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Sandor disclose the nature of their relationship to her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to apologize to everyone because the quality of editing on this chapter is going to be worse than usual. I have a stupid summer cold and am running on Dayquil and tea.

 

Sitting in a tub of increasingly scummy water, Sansa was having a hysterical fit. Arya and Queen Jeyne tried to distract her, but failed.

 

Arya tried to sound reassuring, “It could have been so much worse, Sansa.”

 

After being dismissed, they were ushered into the large chambers of the recently deceased Lord of Riverrun to scrub off the filth of the road and rest till dinner. Due to the need for secrecy, no maids were allowed in the room while they were present so Arya and Sansa had to sit in an adjacent room till the tubs could be filled. Neither of them spoke, both were too weary of being heard. Fortunately after months (in Arya’s case, years ) on the road both Stark girls knew how to bathe themselves. Unfortunately, Sansa was too swollen and exhausted to wash herself everywhere, so Queen Jeyne took it upon herself to wash Sansa’s hair and Arya took over the matter of Sansa’s feet after finishing her own bath.

 

“That was Sandor Clegane, wasn't it?” Queen Jeyne asked softly as she worked a minty smelling tonic through Sansa’s hair to kill whatever lice had taken up residence.

 

“Yes,” Sansa sobbed rubbing her eyes.

 

“I once watched him when I was a child ride at a tourney in the Westerlands. He terrified me with his burnt face but he rode well.”

 

Sansa seem to calm down a little.

 

“Do not worry,”  Jeyne continued. “ I come from a minor house and your brother still took me as his bride. After all, wasn’t your father also a second son?”

 

Arya did the math in her head and laughed at her own ridiculousness.

 

The door to the bedroom opened with a bang causing the girls to start as a handsome older woman with an expression of fierce annoyance strode into the room.

 

She stopped a few feet from the bath and placed her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

 

“My dear girl, what are you going?” she hissed at Jeyne.

 

Jeyne dropped Sansa’s lathered hair and wiped her hands on a towel she had in her lap.

 

“I am helping my goodsister, Princess Sansa wash her hair, mother. She has had a long ride and is great with child so I thought I –“

 

“ _Queens do not bathe anyone,”_ the woman snapped, then regained her composure. Her cruel eyes drifted from Arya’s short hair and filthy clothes to Sansa’s naked body. Her sister could no longer completely fit in a regular tub; every part of her body from her breast to her feet had _expanded_.  Her belly bobbed up out of the water, the skin stretched tight with stripes where it almost split from the babe’s fast growth. Sansa’s face had a roundness to it and her eyes were red and puffy from weeping. 

 

The woman’s face softened but her eyes stayed cruel; “Princess Sansa? Welcome to Riverrun. I am sure you need your rest. Perhaps later you could regale the Queen and I with the story of how you escaped from Kingslanding.”

 

Sansa’s face went as blank and emotionless as an unadorned mask.

 

“I rode away, my lady,” she said in a flat lifeless voice. “There is nothing more to my story, if it please you.”

 

The woman’s face flickered with anger.

 

“Come, Jeyne,” the woman commanded her daughter. “The King is done with his meeting and you will need to change into something more appropriate to join him this afternoon.”

 

She turned on her heel and stormed out. Jeyne gave them a sad smile and dutifully walked out behind her.

 

Sansa’s face relaxed and she sunk as far as she could into the tub to rinse the soap out of her hair. Arya helped as much as she could.

 

“Watch what you say around Queen Jeyne,” her sister said softly, her lips barely above the water. “Everything will get back to her mother and we shouldn’t trust her.”

 

“What do you think she is up to?”

 

“I don’t know, I wish Sandor was here,” her sister whispered. “He can always tell when someone is being false.” Then she sniffed back more tears.

 

Arya wished for Clegane's presence also, if for nothing more than to help Sansa out of the bath.

 

“Could you please go see what has become of him?” her sister begged as Arya dried her feet and legs for her.

 

“You are so good at making yourself inconspicuous, Arya,” Sansa continued. “I bet you could find him with no problems and be back before anyone noticed.”

 

Arya sat back on her heels and glared at her sister’s flattery.

 

 _Seven buggering hells_.

 

“Fine,” she relented. “I’ll go find his ugly hide and report back that he is fine.”

 

“Thank you,” her sister sniffed. “Look for a room guarded by women in dark green, carrying axes.”

 

“You mean like the one at the door when we came in?”

 

“Yes, that is House Mormont,” Sansa replied. “They are headed by Maege Mormont, whose daughter Alysane claims a bear fathered her children. Her sister Dacey was the one at the door and she knew who we were. If Robb and Mother want to keep the knowledge of our presence a secret, they would be the most likely guards as their house is fiercely loyal and knows how to keep a secret.”

 

Arya nodded. She smoothed down her hair, squared her shoulders then slipped out the door.

 

Sandor Clegane had to be still alive. After all the meeting could have gone _a lot_ worse.

 

**Earlier**

 

 

Catelyn Stark looked Sandor Clegane straight in the face.

 

“I assume you are here at the behest of Jamie Lannister?”

 

Clegane blanched. “The Kingslayer? Why in the seven buggering hells would I be here because of the _Kingslayer?”_

“He swore he would return my daughters to me.”

 

“He lied.”

 

The air left the room. Arya backed up till her backside hit the table. She could feel Grey Wind’s tail on her ankles.

Robin oblivious to the tension in the room chewed his fist thoughtfully and watched the exchange from her hip.

 

“You’ve been played for a fool, Lady Stark,” Clegane rasped. “Jamie Lannister would never return your daughter to you. He would never have had that kind of authority. No one takes a shit in Kingslanding without Tywin’s leave, let alone let a hostage go on something as flimsy as a _vow._ ”

 

Arya watched the blood drain from her mother’s face. “He swore to return Sansa and Arya unharmed.”

 

“Arya vanished the day your husband lost his head,” Clegane continued. “I found her traveling around the Riverlands by chance. Sansa has been the only one in Kingslanding and she had to free herself.”

 

Robb’s brain caught up with the conversation; “Sansa, we heard rumors about Joffrey… that he did things… dishonored you at court and….”

 

Arya watched Robb trip over his words as he stared at Sansa’s belly. He was acting like a little boy who just had the method in which children were made explained to him for the first time.

 

Clegane’s eyes narrowed at him before snaking his arm across Sansa and cradling her belly with his large hand.

 

“The babe is mine,” he growled.

 

Robb's face grew blotchy as he realized the implications of Clegane's words.

 

"You son of a poxy whore," Robb growled shaking with rage. "I'm going to send your head back to your masters with your manhood in your ugly mouth!"

 

Everyone stared at Robb.

 

"Watch what you say, boy," Clegane barked at him, his hand sneaking down to his sword.

 

“ _You dishonor my sister and bring her to me with a bastard in her belly and expect me to be merciful?!”_ Robb snarled.

 

“Not a bastard,” Sansa said with a lot more confidence than her face portrayed. “We’ve said our vows in front of a weirwood tree.”

 

The room suddenly erupted with noise and action. Robb drew his sword at the same time Clegane drew his. Sansa shrieked and wrapped her arms around her husband. The big man with the bushy beard (who Arya suddenly recalled was Great Jon Umber) jumped in between them with his sword out. Her mother's uncle jumped in front of Robb, hands up bellowing at him to put his steel away. Their mother sank to the floor in tears, as the woman who might be Queen Jeyne and the man who was probably their uncle Edmure rushed to her side. The woman in green burst in the room, axe drawn and Hullen made a break for it, running out the open door faster than she thought a man his age could move.

 

Arya sat hard on the floor and shuffled on her bottom under the table, crowding Grey Wind.

 

_Scoot over flea bag._

 

Robin giggled in her arms and clapped at the scene in front of him.

 

 _“Enough!”_ Catelyn Stark howled her hands in her hair.

 

Everyone froze. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the men, the whimpering of the direwolf and Robin’s gurgles.

 

Their mother rose without assistance, with all the dignity of a queen.

 

She held her chin high and said, “Dacey, please take my daughters to Robb’s rooms for a bath. They have had a long journey.” Lady Stark turned to the brunette, “If it please Your Grace to join them I would be honored. “

 

She fixed Clegane with a hard stare. “Uncle, Edmure and Jon, you many take your leave. Robb and I have many questions for Sandor Clegane.”

 

Great Jon turned to their mother and opened his mouth to protest, but she waved him silent.

 

“If what he says is true, then we have nothing to fear from him.”

 

Their mother turned to Sansa, who was still wrapped around Clegane’s chest, her hand twisted in his tunic. She held out her hand and softly said “My dear sweet daughter, please let go.”

 

“No!” Sansa snarled.

 

“Please, you are tired and I am sure you would like a bath.”

 

“No!” Sansa barked out. “I will not leave my husband alone so you and Robb can put him in chains!”

 

“Little bird,” Clegane said as he sheathed his sword and put his arms around her sister. He bent down and started whispering in her ear. Arya couldn’t make out what he was saying: his long hair covered their faces like a curtain from the rest of the room.

 

Arya did hear her sister whimper, “You promise?”

 

Then they kissed and everyone in the room looked every uncomfortable.

 

Arya climbed out from underneath the table with Grey Wind. Robb suddenly noticed Robin.

 

“Who’s child is this?” he asked overwhelmed.

 

Arya bounced the toddler on her hip. “We found him in an inn on the side of the road. Sansa wanted to keep him till we got here and found him a good home.”

 

Robb blinked several times as if he could not believe the toddler existed.

 

“Then take him to the kitchens, I am sure the ladies will be glad to have him,” he said bewildered.

 

“Of course Your Grace,” Arya said unable to keep the mocking tone out of her voice.

 

As she dragged Sansa off Clegane Arya hissed under her breath to the big man; “You fuck this up and you’re going back on my list.”

 


	27. Behind the Door Guarded by Bears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya seeks out Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some questions answered, new ones brought up and a couple dick jokes, because why not?
> 
> I still have cold medicine head and no beta.  
> So if this chapter sucks I'm going say it was the pseudoephedrine's fault.

Arya rounded the corner and spied the Mormonts standing bored and fierce flanking a nondescript door.

 

She weighed her options and decided to try deception first.

 

Back tracking through the hall she found an unsupervised bucket. She snatched it up, then snuck into a nearby room and stole some kindling from beside the hearth. Arya messed up her hair and dirtied her face and hands with ashes.

 

_So much for my bath._

She let her shoulders droop as she shuffled to the door.

 

“I’m here to freshen the fire m’lady, if it please you,” she mumbled.

 

Both women looked at each other and laughed.

 

One of them reached out and pulled her chin up.

 

“Brave try, Arya Stark,” she smiled. “But you’re wearing the same clothes that I saw you in this morning.”

 

_So time to try force._

Arya drew the dagger Gendry made from her boot and put the point under the woman’s chin.

 

“I need to get in that room.”

 

Dacey Mormont slapped the dagger away and drew her axe laughing. Her axe was as wide as Robin was tall and looked like she could cut Arya in half if she wanted to.

 

The other woman was holding her sides laughing. She managed to wheeze, “You have more courage than sense, girl.”

 

_Fine, let’s try truth._

 

Arya threw her hands up in defeat then said, “You know how one of your family tells everyone she laid with a bear? Well my sister laid with the big, stupid, smelly, ugly, dog on the other side of this door and got herself a big belly. Now she's completely unreasonable and just wants me to see that he's not chained to the wall in there.”

 

The women looked at each other and nodded.

 

“He’s just had his bath, so he probably isn’t as smelly,” smiled Dacey, then she added “Mayhaps when all this shite is settled you should come visit us on Bear Island? Learn to fight like a proper woman. My sister Lyanna would like you.”

 

The other woman was still chortling, but stood back from the door to let Arya through.

 

Arya retrieved her dagger but stopped at the door when something tugged at her mind; “Wait, you said he just had a bath?”

 

“Aye.”

 

“Has he had time to put his breeches back on?”

 

Both women nearly collapsed in mirth.

 

“Would you like me to go check?” asked Dacey.

 

 _Yes._ “No!”

 

The other woman watched Arya’s ears turn red and started taunting her;

 

“So, is he big everywhere?”

 

Arya’s mouth dropped open.

 

_“I wouldn’t know!”_

“Does it have a purple head?”

 

Arya made a gagging noise.

 

“You’re talking about my goodbrother!”

 

“Lyra!” Dacey chastised and slapped her on the arm.

 

Lyra shrugged, “I’ve seen a barrel of pickles in my day, so I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing out!”

 

Both women howled with laughter as Arya stomped through the door and slammed it behind her.

 

 ***

 

Arya threw her hands over her eyes and yelled, “Do you have your breeches on?!”

 

Sandor Clegane let out a barking laugh.

 

“Do you or do you not?!” she demanded.

 

“Yes, wolf-bitch, I have my clothes on.”

 

Arya dropped her hands and was relieved that Clegane was not in chains and fully dressed.

 

The room was normal and he looked quite relaxed lounging on a big feather bed with his hands behind his head.

 

“Oh good, you’re not dead or strung up to the wall.”

 

“No, she-wolf,” he said with a yawn. 

 

He sat up and swung his legs to the floor, “You Northern women cackle like a bunch of hedge witches.”

 

“You heard all that?”

 

“Oh yes,” he laughed at the look of disgust on her face.

 

“How is Sansa?” he asked his face serious.

 

“She took a bath and cried,” Arya replied. “Then she sent me to see if you were locked up in the dungeons.”

 

“I am not,” he sighed. “Your mother seems to think that I am here as part of a very clever plan by Tywin and your brother is convinced I forced your sister.”

 

“You couldn’t force Sansa to give up the last piece of salted pork.”

 

The big man shrugged, “I think he is feeling guilty for breaking his word and marrying into a minor house loyal to the Lannisters.”

 

“I guess Sansa did the same thing.”

 

“Only she never broke a promise to the man whose troops make up the bulk of his army by wedding me. Your brother is very stupid when it comes to his cock, she-wolf. “

 

“You admitted you let Sansa lead you around by your cock.”

 

“I’m a dog, not a King, and there is nothing wrong with your sister’s womb.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You spent time with your brother’s wife? They have been married almost a year and her stomach is as flat as a board. I got your sister with child the moment she started fooling around with her moon tea. The Queen in the North is barren, or someone is giving her something to stop your brother’s seed from taking root. It makes it very difficult for your brother to execute me when his wife has been unable to give him an heir and in three moons your sister will birth a _true born_ babe.”

 

Arya rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted and wanted lunch.

 

Clegane continued; “I can see this from your mother’s view; the King in the North and his eldest sister are both married to Lannister banner men. Since Queen Jeyne and I are both from minor houses, we bring nothing to your family. All of our offspring would have claims in the North while having family loyal to the Lannisters in the West who are no real threat to Casterly Rock. It would have been a very easy way to settle the war in the Lannister's favor if Tywin had thought of it. But he didn’t or your goodsister would have a babe in her arms and one in her belly.”

 

"But you're not loyal to the Lannisters anymore and you hate your family."

 

"Hopefully your mother and brother believe that," Clegane shrugged.

 

Arya sat on the bed next to him and slumped. “I’ve only been here a couple of hours and I already miss being on the road.”

 

Clegane chuckled, and then gently shoved her off the bed so he could lie down again. 

 

“So what should I tell my sister?”

 

“Tell her I’m alive, for now. I surrendered my sword to your Uncle after you two left.  Your mother and brother argued over executing me till she had to call in the Blackfish to take your brother’s sword. Then your mother offered me a bag of gold and an escort to Maidenpool if I agreed to leave right then and sail away to Essos never to return.”

 

Clegane sighed and rubbed the stubble on his good cheek.

 

“Your sister will be glad to know when I refused, I only called your mother a bitch in my thoughts.”

 

Arya bristled but kept quiet.

 

“Your mother asked how your sister came to have my pup in her belly and I told her to ask your sister herself and your brother went into another rage.”

 

Clegane yawned again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

“That is when your mother summoned your Uncle and the Blackfish back in the room to calm him down. When he was done ranting about your sister’s honor, I told them very briefly what happened to your sister in Kingslanding, what I did to help her and that I killed Joffrey for how he had treated her.”

 

Arya whistled.

 

“That is when they told the bears,” he waved at the door” to hide me here, till they could decide whether or not they believe me."

 

Arya bit her bottom lip then asked, “Could I just tell my sister you’re “fine”?”


	28. Between Mother and Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn Stark bares her soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super heavy chapter. I reread Storm of Swords and assessed Catelyn's state of mind, which turned out to be completely different than I remembered. There are some lines lifted directly out of the Catelyn chapters, but I have not marked them as to not disrupt the flow. 
> 
> This was a mentally draining chapter to write (I hope it makes sense), so I've decided the next one is going to be about cake.

Arya opened the door to the Lord's chambers and found her mother helping Sansa into an airy shift with a high waist. Upon seeing her youngest daughter, Lady Stark's features hardened into a disapproving mask that Arya knew all too well.

 

“You should not have left,” Catelyn scolded her daughter as she rushed up to her and pulled her inside the room before closing the door behind her.

 

Arya felt like a child and a hated it.

 

“That’s not fair! I thought you didn’t want anyone to know _Sansa_ was here!” she flinched at how immature she sounded.

 

“Mother,” Sansa said as she rested her hands on her belly. “I asked Arya to leave. I wanted to make sure you and Robb hadn’t done something awful to my husband.”

 

Lady Stark turned to Arya. “Well, tell your sister what you discovered.”

 

Arya shrugged, “He’s fine.”

 

“Clegane has been given a room as befits his station and our need for discretion.” Lady Stark said simply.

 

Sansa nodded and settled herself in a padded chair by the window. She looked at her mother with eyes threatening tears.

 

“Please don't kill him,” she whimpered.

 

Lady Stark crossed the room and sat in an adjacent chair. “If what you say is true, I am no kin slayer Sansa, Clegane will be safe.  Your brother will calm in time. His rage comes from guilt for his own failures and the need to protect you.”

 

“Protect me?” Sansa blurted out, her skin turning blotchy from anger. “Then why did he leave me to rot in Kingslanding? Joffrey beat me, mother! He had me stripped bare in court! He tried to force himself on me! Once he told me if his uncle Tyrion died during the Battle of the Blackwater, I was to be given to his soldiers as a congratulatory prize! The only reason I was not more abused is that Sandor managed to distract or subtly terrify Joffrey into behaving and Lord Tyrion and Queen Cersei were scared of what would happen to Ser Jamie if Joffrey’s mistreatment of me got back to Robb!”

 

Their mother put her head in her hands and began to weep. “I did everything I could, Sansa,” she whispered. “But I am one woman among men who care not for my daughters other than a means to an end for their houses."

 

Lady Stark retrieved a kerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes.

 

"When I heard of your brothers’ death and the rumors of what … _that bastard_ was supposedly doing to you, Sansa, I became a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. I felt there was a hole in my chest were my heart should have been, because I could not keep my children from the monsters in this world. So I betrayed my King and land by freeing Jamie Lannister, Seven help me, in a vain hope that some honor was still in his family and that his brother, Lord Tyrion would send my children back to me safe and whole."

 

Their mother trembled.

 

“And yet as my prayers were answered, I come to find my betrayal was in vain as my daughters where never safe and the Lannisters would have never honored my our agreement…."

 

Lady Stark let out a shaky breath.

 

"I am so disappointed in myself; I have labored under the greatest self-deception that I could somehow keep all my children safe, and for that I am sorry."

 

Sansa did not look as if she was ready to forgive their mother. Arya couldn't blame her; while she had been free to find her own way back, Sansa had been stuck until Robb marched his army down the King's Road. Even that wasn't a guaranteed she would be freed.

 

"When I saw you great with child," their mother continued, "I could only think of the rumors we had heard were true; that Joffrey had taken you as his… plaything, humiliating you with all kinds of depravities. We heard such awful things… One of which told that he made to ruin you by stripping you at court and ordering the Kingsguard to…  make sure you were unfit for any marriage."

 

Arya felt sick at the unsaid details of how Sansa had supposedly suffered. But then she remembered the rumors she had heard of Robb changing into a wolf and tearing people up. People believed and told such awful things, and yet she could believe that kind of depravity in Joffrey. She wished she let Nymeria eat him, at least then she would have felt proud to let her beloved wolf go.

 

Their mother reached for Sansa's hands and said, "When you proclaimed you were wed to their most loyal sword, a man whose family is synonymous with the war time atrocities so great that it is said the gods will add an additional level of hell just to punish the Cleganes for their crimes, I wept. I thought the worst of what was said was true, that the rumor that Joffrey gave you to … his dog… to be dishonored; yet it did not make sense that you would be here if that was what transpired."

 

"It is Sandor’s brother who is the monster,” Sansa retorted. "Sandor is not the man he once was.”

 

“He is nothing like his brother,” Arya said softly. “I have seen what his brother and his men are capable of and…”Arya chewed her lip for a moment. “He wouldn't do things like that…”

 

_He’d cut down every last man in this castle to protect Sansa, but he wouldn’t torture them or rape their children first._

 

"Do not expect me to like your husband Sansa, nor take my leniency as acceptance," Lady Stark warned. "I still believe he might be part of a larger plot and I suspect the Lannisters are toying with our family for political gain, or, seven help me I would not put it past them, amusement."

 

"Is it so hard to believe that the father of my child would not want me away from my tormentors? Than if not for me, but for himself? If they had discovered our affair our heads would have been put next to fathers!"

 

"I can put nothing past that family; I believe your brother was tricked into marrying into a minor house loyal to the Lannisters."

 

Arya blanched then asked, "What happened?"

 

Their mother closed her eyes as if recalling a painful memory; "Your brother needed to cross the Twins so I negotiated with Lord Frey and got him across. He needed more troops so I sold my children like pigs for my house and King. Then, later when he could not figure out how to attack Tywin directly, he chose to instead execute a show of force by invading the Westerlands and taking the Crag. He was injured in this folly and nursed by Jeyne Westerling. Only later he dishonored her and then forfeited his part of the deal with Walder Frey by marrying the girl due to a guilty conscience. The Frey’s took it as an insult, which it is and now we risk losing the bulk of our forces. We have offered your Uncle Edmure in his place, but I do not know for certain if the Lord of Riverrun is a reasonable substitute for having your daughter made Queen. I assumed when said you had wed Clegane, that Tywin had arranged such a union to insult our family and block us from any alliances we might arrange with our own bannermen."

 

“I went to Sandor myself mother,” her sister said. “He rebuffed my advances till I took advantage of his love of large amounts of Dornish sour. It wasn’t for anyone other than myself; I needed someone to help me survive and I only had one thing to give." Sansa's eyes narrowed. "And it was mine to give, not yours or Robb's to negotiate with or Tywin to use as a reward or Joffrey’s to take. I do not regret my actions, nor do I deny the feelings we have for each other. He was the one who refused to have this child be a Hill. He told me no matter what stigma the name Clegane carries it is not as bad as being denied the right to be part of a family.”

 

Arya thought of Jon and felt a lump in her throat. Sansa had always been cold to him, she wondered how she would treat him now.

 

“Please don't make me get rid of it," her sister said loosing all her bravado.

 

Their mother was taken back. “Do you really believe I am such a monster that I would murder a member of my family as so many have already? That I would kill my first and as it appears for a time, only grandchild because of some need for vengeance against the house it’s father is loyal to?”

 

“I know what happened with Aunt Lysa," Sansa spat. "I know grandfather made her drink tansy tea so she could be sold to Jon Arryn as a brood mare.”"

 

“What my father did was beyond the pale and in the end all for naught," their mother replied softly. "Lysa was the price Jon Arryn had to pay for the swords and spears of House Tully. And yet, in the end his victory was false; your aunt lost child after child and the one she has is sickly and kept as helpless as a mewing babe at the breast. The King we chose turned out to be nothing more than a drunken whore monger who died from his own hubris hunting a boar. His legacy is three children whelped by the greatest of sins by two people so vain they could only find lust in their own reflection."

 

 "I am no longer an innocent bride or fair lady with a head full of dreams and ambitions, Sansa," their mother continued hanging her head. "I am a widow, a traitor, a grieving mother and wise, wise in the ways of the world. I have done everything in the way I was taught was right; I have negotiated and bargained and traded my children like my father traded my sister and myself, and yet all I have reaped in return is a husband executed for his honor, a son who breaks his word, a home laid waste by a young man my family warded and my young sons murdered. I have become a creature of dust and tears, yearning to return to a home reduced to rumble, to be with my family who have been scattered like ashes in the wind. The Silent Sisters do not speak to the living, but it is said they can speak to the dead and when I gazed upon your father’s bones I envied them.”

 

Arya chewed her lip. She had never seen her mother like this before. She remembered her mother as a hard disciplinarian with lofty ambitions for her children, but also soft, kind and loving. She remembered the scolding she would get for not being lady-like, but also the sweet kisses at night before bed and how her mother would hold her when she was feeling the after effects of a wrong decision. Arya had never seen her mother as the woman before her; tired and defeated.

 

Their mother looked Sansa in the eyes;

"Almost 19 years ago I watched from the tallest tower as your father, a man who knew me long enough to wed and put your brother in my belly, rode off to kill the man who slaughtered his family and stole his sister. I sat in this very room, in that very shift as round as you are now and wondered what would become of me if your father never returned. My father did not assure me, nor attempted to soothe my apprehension, but instead told me I would be wed to your Uncle Benjen if your father should not return."

Their mother closed her eyes against the memory; "I sat in that chair and wept, Sansa. I wept so long and hard that Maester Luwin had to give me a potion to sleep. The next day I went to the sept and prayed for your father’s return, not because I loved him but because I did not wish to marry again. I did not want to be passed between Northmen like a good horse! If your father was to die, I wanted to stay home. I prayed to stay here, the only home I had ever known and not be forced into an alien land with their strange gods and cold weather with yet another unknown man."

 

Lady Stark opened her eyes and continued;

"I admit I was taken with your uncle Brandon when I first met him, but he had a wandering eye and a fiery temper. He slit Petyr Baelish open like a trout just to prove he could. I actually feared marrying him; he was a man of lusts and would have grown to be like Robert Baratheon in time."

 

"But when I met your father", their mother smiled at the memory. "I thought I found someone as reserved and dutiful as I. In the little time we had together before he left to fight Robert’s war he asked me about my thoughts on matters, something no man had ever done. I thought I had found someone who would listen to me, unlike my father, and reward me for my dutifulness and love."

 

"But then he brought home Jon Snow," she hissed. "And I knew I was as big fool as Rhaegar Targaryen."

 

Lady Stark swallowed loudly.

 

"Your father and I learned to love each other as the years went on, but every time I look upon Jon, he reminds me that I was foolish to expect loyalty from sacrificing my happiness for my family. "

 

Their mother closed her eyes and tears spilled down her cheeks as she let out a shaky breath.

 

"I grasped the blade of an assassin who tried to kill your little brother as he lay in his sick bed, “ she opened her hands to her daughters revealing the wicked scars on her palms. “When the man I was told sent the assassin arrived in my sights I sought justice from my sister, only to find her half crazed and the man go free. I was not there when your father died, I was not with your brothers when Theon Greyjoy murdered them, and now I sit here with my two daughters and all I can think of is how much I wish I could take you home and keep you safe."

 

Lady Stark sighed.

 

"They want me to marry again," she said suddenly. "They have not asked me, but I am not so weak that I cannot hear the whispers. I am young enough to bear children so there has been talk of me once again being passed to another Northman to make sure they stay with Robb's campaign."

 

She smiled sadly, "They expected me to go as meekly as a mouse, as if leaving my home and family to start another is as easy as riding to the next hold fast."

 

"But I do not care for anymore politics. I only wish to go home. I want to bury my sweet sons and lay my husband to rest and grow old in the glass gardens listening to my grandchildren’s laughter," Lady Stark finished.

 

Arya felt like she had the wind knock out of her. She was seeing a side of her mother she was not exposed to as a child. Lady Stark looked worn and sounded broken. She desperately wanted to hug her mother, like she always had when Arya was little and had a bad dream.

 

Sansa was the one who broke the silence, "Mother, I’m sorry, I am so so very sorry."

 

"It sounds as if you felt you had no choice," their mother replied.

 

"For you mother," corrected Sansa. "I am sorry for you. I am sorry you were raised to believe your worth was only your pretty face and ability to breed with the right man. I am sorry your father made you marry someone you didn’t even know and he let them pass you to his brother as if you were nothing more than an old pair of boots so the men of the realm could make other men die because a woman decided she was worth more than her father’s lands. I am sorry you never knew anything different. I understand why you hate Jon so much; father _did_ have a time when he was more than his family name and seeing Jon must remind you of how much you sacrificed to be dutiful no matter what your feelings."

 

Arya's eye grew wide as Sansa's bold words.

 

“That sense of duty was beaten out of me in Kingslanding,” Sansa replied unflinching. “And out of Arya at Harrenhal. No army showed up to take us away, no knight rescued me from my tower, nor Arya from the confines of her bondage. My handsome prince was a monster with a black soul. We made our own way, mother. We were always told we could could count on those who swore to protect us, those knights and laws and gods all proved false. We made our own way because no one else would.”

 

"Along the way, I learned life could be different," her sister said. "That it I didn't have to be as helpless as a princess in a song."

 

Sansa locked eyes with her mother. "Someone told me there was a way that I could be more than a prize to be won by the highest bidder. She showed me such wonderful things, mother. She told me of how she would never have to be shamed for laying with someone she loved. That she would never be considered used, or ruined for her passions. That she could choose her husband without sacrificing her wants and needs."

 

Their mother regarded Sansa as if she had lost her mind.

 

"I will tell you about her one day," Sansa smiled. "For she is the one who helped me escape that awful place and I, in turn helped her family reap justice for a poor woman who was told she must be a proper lady."

 

Arya couldn’t breathe.

 

She looked from her sister to her mother, then back again.

 

Sansa pulled herself up and placed her hand on her mother’s shoulder. “In another time, in another place that may have existed once mother, your family’s lessons and duties would be of the utmost importance. But now it is survival."

 

Sansa placed her mother's hand on her belly. "And when the war is over and the ground becomes level, all will stand equal and be heard. You will not have to remarry mother, you can choose not to and soon if all goes as planned you could choose for love."

 

Their mother looked up into her daughter's face.

 

"Sansa, what have you done?"

 

Sansa, reached out and smoothed her mother's hair then softly said, "Soon. I will tell you what happened soon."

 

 

After a moment, Lady Stark mother turned to Arya,

 

"So what path did you take to escape Kingslanding?"

 

Arya gave a very brief and edited version of her misadventures over the last year. She left out all the killing, fighting, death, Gendry and encountering Roose Bolton at Harrenhal.

 

Her mother listened and nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.

 

Sansa was the first one to excuse herself, "I am weary mother, I wish to rest."

 

"Of course," Lady Stark smiled and smoothed Sansa's hair. "I shall show you the rooms Lysa and I kept when we lived here."

 

Arya was given her aunt Lysa's old room and Sansa, their mothers. She took one look at all the creepy dolls that for some reason still resided on the shelves and asked Sansa if she could sleep with her.

 

Sansa agreed and seemed thankful to not have to sleep alone.

 

Lady Stark helped her sister into bed and drew the curtains.

 

Before she left, Sansa warned their mother, "Beware of the Westerlings their ambitions might be Robb's undoing."

 

Their mother stopped in the doorway and replied, "I am inclined to agree with you, but just like Clegane they are now family."

 

***


	29. The Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clegane enlists Arya to help him expose the Westerlings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much lighter chapter than last time. I have to admit that the time in this chapter might seem a bit jumpy, but it takes place over a week.

Sansa moved into Clegane’s room the first night after dinner, much to the disapproval of their mother and brother. During daylight hours she partook of the more acceptable activity of sewing things for the baby with Queen Jeyne in Robb's chambers. Arya had been concerned at first with Sansa spending time around Robb’s wife considering her belief the Westerlings were schemers. But after sitting with them she became impressed at how much Sansa could speak about nothing and yet fill an afternoon with chatter.

 

Arya filled her days with exploring Riverrun and doing the exercises Syrio once taught her. She manged to weasel out of having to dress like a lady by pointing out that it was easier to go unnoticed if she dressed like a servant. Her mother acquiesced with a tight mouth and Sansa altered a tunic and breeches so she could finally rid herself of her soiled clothes from the road. Arya was happy and relished her freedom.

 

Clegane, on the other hand, acted like a caged animal. It was decided out of all of them, that he had to stay out of sight the most. This meant he was restricted to his room and the Kings chambers. In response to his confinement he would pace, then sleep, then pace some more. At night he would climb out the window onto the roof to sit and look over the land. He pulled Arya up with him every time she caught him as she always threatened to rat him out to her sister. He tried to keep up his sword work in the hallways around Robb's rooms, but the only person who could give him a decent fight was Greatjon and he was busy following their mother around more often than not. 

Once the Mormont sisters decided to ambush him and were rewarded with dozens of bruises and a broken axe.

 

After awhile Clegane fell into his old job of sworn shield; he would stand by the door inside of the Lord’s chambers watching over Sansa as she sewed.

 

***

 

The day before their great uncle left, their mother approached Arya and Sansa as they threw stale bread out the window of Robb’s solar to the ducks below.

 

Lady Stark beckoned to her youngest daughter; “Arya, you should know that when I made the pact with Walder Frey, a part of it included your betrothal to one of his sons. Your great uncle and I have been talking about you leaving with him at first light to go to the Twins…..”

 

Arya didn’t hear the rest of what her mother said. Instead she heard the voice of a skinny little boy with no chin who was so stupid he couldn’t tell when the rust had been sanded off chainmail brag about being a true born son of the Lord of the Crossing and how he was going to marry a princess.

 

_Fuck, Elmar Frey! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!_

“I LAID WITH A BOY!” she shrieked over her mother’s words.

 

Sansa stared at her and her mother’s jaw dropped.

 

“I am no longer a maid, I’ve had sex…. “Arya stuttered.

 

Lady Stark turned on her heel and walked away.

 

“Did you even hear what she was telling you?” Sansa hissed. “She said she was giving you the choice to go! You didn’t have to lie about not being a maid!”

 

Arya wrinkled her nose at her sister. “If you met Elmar Frey, Sansa, you wouldn't judge me if I jumped on the first stable boy I saw with no visible sores on his mouth to get out of it.”

 

Then she threw the heel of the bread in the river with a satisfying _plop._

 

_***_

 

The last of the bannermen going to the Twins had finished slowly trickling out by the third day. A majority of trusted Northern houses stayed at Riverrun, most notably the Umbers. Robb and Catelyn entrusted the Blackfish with their apology to Walder Frey and bade him to ensure the Lord of the Crossing that they would visit when they started the march back North. But for now they stayed at Riverrun under the pretense of using the Northern troops to hold the castle and lands till the River Lords could return to their homes.

 

 Clegane explained the real reason they weren’t going to the Twins to Arya one night as they sat on the roof;

 

“Your sister needs to stay put. She’s far too along to be wandering the country side anymore. Your mother won't leave her now and your brother shouldn't go anywhere near the Twins till Lord Frey's daughter has your uncle's cloak on her back," Clegane leaned back against the stone work. "Once he has the Lord of Riverrun as family, maybe he wont take a pound of flesh off your brother for breaking his word."

 

Clegane sighed.

 

"Of course me being here isn't going to help him; the most pressing problem is the River Lords want my blood for what my brother has done and my pup is the current heir to your brother’s Kingdom. That alone would make them turn on your family.”

 

“So what now?” she asked.

 

The big man watched the lights of the army camp below. “Your sister and I will stay here with your mother while your brother marches North to reclaim Winterfell.  Lord Umber said he would keep a small amount of his troops here to escort us North when your brother is done. The men from Last Hearth are the biggest bunch of buggers I’ve ever seen. As long as I keep my face covered I can blend in with them and no one would be the wiser.”

 

Arya considered this plan. “What about me? What do I do?”

 

Clegane chuckled, “Whatever you want she-wolf. Just like you’ve always done."

 

 

 

 ***

 

One night as Arya made her way back to her room from sitting on the roof with Clegane, she overheard a conversation between her mother and Greatjon Umber.

 

"Cat, this has nothing to do with any of that political shite," she heard him say as softly as his rumbling voice allowed. "Lady Hornwood thought she was protected and look what that _bastard_ did to her!"

 

Lady Stark replied, "Lord Umber, Jon, I know you only have my best interest at heart..."

 

"This isn't about love, Cat!" Greatjon bellowed. "This is about your safety!"

 

"Robb will keep me safe!"

 

"They grabbed her when she was returning from the Harvest Festival, Cat! Are you really going to hide behind the walls of Winterfell for the rest of your life?"

 

She heard her mother sob.

 

"Ned Stark would rise from his grave and strangle me with my own guts if I didn't protect you," Lord Umber rumbled." Her fingers Cat, when they broke into that tower, she had been in there for so long she tried to _eat her own fingers..."_

 

Arya felt sick and managed to slink away unnoticed. She decided she should put the conversation out of her mind till she could ask Sansa about it. At the moment she did not need one more nightmare.

 

***

 

“She-wolf I need a favor.”

 

Arya had been chasing cats through the hallways of Riverrun when Clegane stepped out of the shadows in front of her. At first she was shocked that he had dared to leave his cage, but found his presence welcome. Her boredom was making her mischievous and irritating Clegane always yielded some distraction.

 

“Mayhaps,” she replied with a grin.

 

“I need you to steal some herbs and cakes from the kitchen,” he snapped at her.

 

Arya sneered at him, “Just ask Sansa’s maid to get you some.”

 

Clegane’s face contorted into an ugly snarl; Arya realized he wouldn’t tolerate her games at that moment.

 

“Queen Jeyne’s mother brings cake and cups of an herbal posset to her daughter and your sister while they sew. Sweets turn your sister's stomach right now and she doesn't trust them so she always gracefully declines. Usually Lady Westerling makes the maids clear the dishes right away, but your goodsister left her unfinished drink by the window and they forgot to pick it up. I was going to dump it out but then I noticed it smelled of wormwood and tansy.”

 

_Oh shit._

“Wait, how you know what tansy smells like?”

 

“Cersei drank moon tea anytime Robert climbed in her bed and your sister’s breath would reek of it after she drank hers.”

 

Arya felt a little sick.

“I don’t want that shit anywhere near your sister. Lady Westerling is keeping your goodsister from conceiving and it wouldn’t take much for her to bribe one of the cooks to put something in your sister’s food.”

 

“You need to talk to Robb or mother.”

 

“I tried, but they wouldn't listen. Just because your mother is tolerating me, doesn’t mean I’m in your brother’s good graces, she-wolf. I’d sooner not deal with your family and just tie a large rock to Syblle Westerlings’ feet and shove her into the river; but that would raise too many questions. I need you to get proof; get your hands on some of the herbs in that drink and some of that cake and take it your mother’s master. If he isn’t completely useless he’ll know what it is, then go to your brother.”

 

***

 

Arya’s face was already known in the kitchens, but under the name Nan. She would go down every so often to snatch tarts and check up on Robin who had been taken in by the baker’s wife. She made an effort to stay clear in the morning when they would bake bread. Even the smell of yeast turned her stomach after what happened at the inn.

 

The next morning she willed her stomach to be calm and made her way down to the kitchens to see how Lady Westerling’s refreshments were made.

 

Arya didn’t expect Lady Westerling herself, but noticed when a maid she had never seen before appeared after everyone was done breaking their fast.

She watched as the girl used a small kettle and a tiny bag of herbs produced from a pocket somewhere in her skirts to brew a strong smelling tea. The maid then took the remaining herbs and mixed them into the flour she used to make batter for two small cakes. While the cake was baking the girl mixed milk with the tea and heated it in the kettle over the fire till it curdled. Then she added ale and let it cool. When the cakes were done, the girl arranged the food, kettle and two cups on a tray. She left the kitchen leaving no trace of her labor. Arya followed the maid as she took it through the castle, falling in step behind Lady Westerling as she entered Robb’s chambers where Sansa and Jeyne sat sewing and chatting about nothing.

 

Arya pressed her ear to the door and heard Sansa refuse the refreshments much to Lady Westerlings displeasure.

 

Standing outside the door shaking in rage at the deviousness of Lady Westerling,  Arya formed a plan.

 

***

 

The next morning Arya found the Mormont sisters drinking weak ale and shooting dice with the hodgepodge of other soldiers their mother and Robb kept back from Uncle Edmure’s wedding.

 

“Dacey! Lyra! I need your help stealing cake!” she said leaning over their game.

 

The women looked at her seriously then Lyra asked; “What kind of cake?”

 

***

 

Arya explained the situation as she walked the sisters down to the kitchens.

 

“Now I need you to distract the maid while I sneak in and subtly take enough of the herbal tea and cake for the maester to be able to identify the tansy.”

 

The sisters nodded as they headed into the kitchen. Arya kept close to the wall as they entered. They were the perfect cover; solidly built women carrying axes tended to command attention when they walked in a room.

 

But it only took a moment for Arya’s plan to fall apart.

 

“Oh look cake!” exclaimed Dacey as she pulled a hunk of cooling spice cake out of its pan and wrapped it in a napkin.

 

“And tea to wash it down!” Lyra declared as snatched the kettle and poured herself a cup. She then added some of the herbs seeping at the bottom by scooping them out with a spoon.

 

The maid stood wide eyed at the two women.

 

“You can’t take that!” the girl shrieked. “This is for Lady Westerling! I’m going to tell Her Grace about this!”

 

The Mormonts laughed at her.

 

“No you won’t,” snickered Lyra.

 

“Do you know nothing?” sneered Dacey. “When you steal food off the lord’s plate just rearrange it so it looks like nothing is missing. “

 

“Or you can tell your lady you let someone walk off with her food,” Lyra said with a grin. “It won’t be any hair off our arses but it might be some off of yours.”

 

Arya caught up with the sisters as they left the kitchen.

 

“What part of _subtly_ did you two fail to grasp?!” she hissed.

 

Lyra handed her the cup of herbs and Dacey gave her the handful of cake.

 

“If you wanted subtle, you should have gone with someone from the Riverlands,” Dacey smiled.

 

“You’ve been away too long, wolf pup,” Lyra said. “Women in the North can do many things, but subtlety is one skill we lack.”

 

***

 

Arya found her mother’s maseter with no problems. He clutched his chest in shock when she handed him the herbs and explained their origin. The maester brought the result of his identification before Robb who turned bright red and demanded that Lady Westerling be locked in her rooms till he could figure out what was to be done with her.

 

Lady Stark had not been privy to the exchange between her brother and the maester, so Arya sought her out to inform her of the events. Upon hearing of the expose treachery that led to Lady Westerlings confinement, her mother turned red and stormed out of the room.  Arya followed her out as she strode through halls in a flurry of grey and white silk.

 

“Where is your sister?” her mother demanded, noticing that Arya was now running to keep up.

 

Arya racked her brain.

 

“Probably in Clegane’s room.”

 

Lady Stark banged on the door and Clegane pulled it open.

 

Arya didn’t think her mother could get angrier but the sight of Sandor Clegane standing before her with disheveled hair and clad in a haphazardly thrown on tunic and breeches did it. He had clearly been awoken from sleep by her mother’s demanding knocks.

 

 “Where is my daughter?” Lady Stark snarled.

 

“Sleeping,” he replied in a hushed tone, his voice raspier than usual.

 

Catelyn Stark shoved him aside with surprising strength and stormed into the room.

 

Sansa lay on the middle of the bed, comfortably cradled in a nest of pillows snoring like a bear.

 

Catelyn bit her bottom lip in a very unladylike manner as she regarded the sleeping form of her daughter. She turned to Clegane.

 

“It appears that your assertions regarding Lady Westerling have been proven true,” she said in a hushed tone. “It has become clear you are far more loyal to my daughter than your former employers, and hold her well being most paramount. For that I thank you.”

 

Then she glided through the door and was gone.

 

Arya smiled up at him. “I think she likes you.”

 

“Thank you for your help, she-wolf.”

 

Then Clegane shoved her out the door (not ungently) and bolted it behind her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Sansa will explain her scheme, Robb will be betrayed and the question "Where is Gendry ?" will be answered!


	30. In the Middle of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of events come to light after Arya's bedtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank every single last one of you that has stayed with my crazy story so far. I never imagined it would ever be this popular or this long! This is the beginning of the end, but that's okay because everyone needs their happily ever after :)
> 
>  
> 
> I also expect the reaction to the next couple of chapters to run from "Wow! to "Have you been eating mushrooms you found on the side of the road?" to "This is ridiculous, I refuse to read anymore, you very silly person."

_She could smell him. Him and others, some familiar and some not._

_She prowled through the trees, her army quiet at her back, waiting._

_There were five of them, all mounted except for one who lay gasping in the dirt._

_“I hope you shoe horses better than you ride.”_

_The man speaking was tall with a cloak's hood covering silver hair. She did not know him. He was riding double with a boy with pale blond hair who looked familiar._

_The boy turned in the saddle and addressed the silver haired man; “Ser, we need him to help gain entrance to the castle.”_

_“Isn't that why we brought the Rose, my lord?” replied the silver hair man jerking his thumb in the direction of another rider in rich armor._

_“You don't know the Starks like I do! If what our sources say is true we will need all the support we can get.”_

_“I understand, my lord. My hope is that Lady Clegane is as even headed in the flesh as she is in letters.”_

_“Lady Stark” corrected the man in rich armor. His voice wasn’t familiar, but his fair face tickled her memory._

_“She is Lady Clegane now,” snapped the silver haired man._

_“Are you positive? I can scarcely believe that it would be possible…”_

_“It is so. According to my Princess, she has been wedded and very much bedded by the younger Clegane. Remember that when you see her. I believe her Lord kept his brother from cutting you in half once, mayhaps he will refrained from it himself if you forget to address his wife correctly.”_

_The silver haired man turned to the man on the ground; “You ready, Waters?”_

_“I think so,” he gasped pulling himself to his feet._

_“He can ride behind me,” said a dark stocky figure that smelled like a woman. “The young lord should take his horse. We need to spread ourselves out so at least one of us makes it to the gate.”_

_“Thoros said we will be fine, Obara,” said the boy. “He said he saw in his flames that an army of wolves would protect us along the way.”_

_“I place little credence in the red priest’s predictions my lord,” said the silver haired man as he helped the boy mount the recently vacated horse. “Most of the Northern forces unfortunately went to the Twins. Lord Stark kept a pantry few behind to guard his family at Riverrun till his Uncle Edmure returned.”_

_She watched as the stocky rider pulled Gendry into the saddle behind her. For a moment he was trying to find a proper riding position behind the women, and in the next he was looking up, his eyes locked with hers._

_Yellow eyes stared back into blue and she saw his jaw drop. Her pack surrounded them, waiting for the signal to attack or flee._

_“An army of wolves,” she heard him whisper._

_The he pointed at her and cried; “Look!”_

“Arya!”

 

Arya awoke with a snort. She was wrapped up in her blankets, very comfortable and very warm. Unfortunately Robb was standing over her shaking her shoulder.

 

“Piss off Robb,” she snarled turning her back to her brother.

 

“Arya!”

 

“Sorry,” she wasn’t.  “Piss off Your Grace.”

 

She heard Robb hiss a curse under his breath then demand; “Arya, I need you to go wake up our sister and her husband.”

 

This made her sit up. Even though a week had passed since she and Clegane had exposed Lady Westerling’s deception, this was the first time she had heard her Robb refer to Sandor Clegane as Sansa’s husband. Still, she was warm, and the flagstone floors of Riverrun were not.

 

“No,” she replied and lay back down.

 

Robb tried a different tactic; “Please?”

 

“No,” she spat.  “Do you know what kind of grumpy bastard the Hound is when he wakes up?”

 

“Arya this is important. Something has come up and I need you two to meet me in the dining room off the Lord’s solar. “

 

She rolled over and regarded her brother. He look all of his 19 years standing before her and even though she was awake enough to do what he asked, she couldn’t help but rub his insecurities in his face.

 

“You’re scared of the Hound, aren’t you?”

 

Robb bit his lip.

 

Arya smirked watching her big brother squirm.

 

“Fine, I’ll wake him up,” she declared sitting up. Then she thought for a moment, “Let me use Greywind. “

 

“No,” her brother replied.

 

 

 

Arya constructed and discarded several plans on how to get Clegane out of bed, some involved poking him with a broom or Needle, or bribing a stable boy to dump a pale of water on him like Sansa had done.

 

Instead she tried a more direct approach.

 

He had bolted their door from the inside, so she had to climb in the window from the room below. She slunk up to the side of the bed and regarded the sleeping figures. Sansa had appeared to have stolen every unclaimed pillow in the castle and had constructed a supportive nest in the middle of the bed. Clegane slept towards the edge of the mattress on what little room there was left. His laying on his bad side and for a moment it occurred to Arya how little she noticed his scars anymore.

 

Arya leaned over his sleeping form and decided to get him back for so painfully flicking her ear back in the inn on the Red Fork.

 

But before she could extract her vengeance his hand shot up and crushed her wrist;

 

 “Fuck off wolf bitch,” he rasped, not even bothering to open his eyes.

 

“Robb wants you,” she whispered.

 

“Tell his grace he can fuck off to.”

 

“I already did.”

 

He opened one eye to glare at her; “So why are you here?”

 

Sansa snorted in her sleep and they both froze.

 

“Apparently it's important,” Arya whispered closer to his unflicked ear.

 

“If they haven't breached the walls it can wait,” he dropped her hand and closed his eye.

 

“If you don't get up I'll have wake up Sansa,” she said desperately. She wouldn’t do it (Sansa had developed a habit over the last week of becoming a cranky mess if she was disturbed when sleeping) but she had a sinking feeling about what Robb had to tell them.

 

Clegane growled at her in defeat and sat up. Arya came to realize her goodbrother was probably not wearing anything under the blanket.

 

“You should probably turn around,” he snickered.

 

“Don’t take long getting your breeches on or I will send the Mormont sisters in here to help you!” Arya hissed at him. Then she spun on her heels and made for the door.

 

 

 

Arya squirmed in the chair next to Clegane. His chair was groaning under his bulk, even with him leaning his elbow on the long dining table, cradling his chin in his hand. The fire in the hearth had burned down and the stone walls radiated a chill. There was a flagon of what smelled like wine in the center of the table with a handful of cups around it.

 

Robb sat opposite Clegane, full awake and nervously stroking Grey Wind under the table.

 

“Stark,” he grumbled. “I left a bed made warm by furs and your sister because you needed to tell me something. I do not see the fires of an approaching army on the horizon, so could you hurry this up so I can reclaim my spot on our bed?”

 

Then he gave Robb an ugly smirk.

 

Arya couldn’t tell what disgusted Robb more; the ugliness of Clegane’s face with his scars twisted in his mocking expression, or the fact he was reminded that this ugly man had been lying naked with his sister moments before.

 

“You will sit here as long as I bid you to, Clegane,” Robb hissed. Arya noticed the dark circles under his eyes, his bottom lip looked like he had been chewing it and the hand that wasn’t petting Grey Wind was worrying at the arm of his chair.

 

Clegane yawned and stretched like a big, stupid dog. Arya heard his joints crack loudly in the silence. Robb looked like he was going to say something when the door opened and in filed Greatjon, the maester, Lady Stark and a very road worn Brynden Tully.

 

 

Robb looked beseechingly at Lord Umber who shook his head, his face was pale under his beard and his hand gripped tight on his sword.

 

Arya glanced to Clegane. He appeared aware of Greatjon’s sour mood and sat up straight in his chair. He had his sword on his belt but was only wearing hastefully thrown on breeches and a tunic. Arya felt the tension in the room and attempted to stop squirming.

 

“My great-uncle, please sit,” Robb gestured to his right. “Please tell us what befell our kin at the Twins.”

 

“The Freys slaughtered everyone,” the Blackfish drank down a cup of wine, and then refilled it from the flagon. “The wedding went off without a hitch, but after the bedding they locked the doors to the feast and slaughtered everyone as they ate. Those who were outside were cut down were they stood. The only reason I am here to tell you is because I was out pissing when it started and jumped in the river before they could get to me. I clung to a rock under the bridge so they didn’t see me. I watched them slaughter their own countrymen like pigs and drop their bodies in the river.”

 

Arya let out a gasp, her mother stood erect with fury, and Greatjon’s jaw dropped. Clegane’s face was blank, but she could tell by the twitch on his burnt side and the way he clench and unclenching his fists that he was thinking. Robb brought his fist down on the table top making everyone jump.

 

“Did they think this butchery, this sin against gods and men would go unpunished?!” he demanded.

 

The Blackfish eyed him over his cup, “Lord Frey was extremely upset that you and your mother were not in attendance.”

 

He drank then continued, “But I believe he had already planned this. No one can plan a massacre like I saw in the few hours between my arrival and dinner.”

 

“What of Edmure?” her mother asked.

 

“I have no idea,” the Blackfish replied. “Last I saw of him, he was laughing and being stripped by the foul swine Walder Frey calls daughters. Mayhaps he spent his wedding night in the dungeon, mayhaps at the bottom of the river.”

 

The room got very quiet. Arya unashamedly let her head swivel as she looked from adult to adult trying to gauge who was in charge, what was next, how this was going to end.

 

“Clegane”, Robb said finally.  “Take your wife and my sister and leave right now.”

 

Clegane stared at him for a moment before replying, “No.”

 

Arya expected Robb to reprimand his refusal, but to her surprise, her brother said quietly, “You have to go; you have to take them some place safe.”

 

“Why is it not safe here?” snarled Clegane.

 

“Because with my brothers dead, my uncle’s fate unknown and my wife missing, you being married to my sister are now my heir.”

 

“Where in the seven hells is your wife?”

 

After her mother’s betrayal and confinement, Queen Jeyne had become despondent and had refused to leave her bed. In the following week Sansa had tried to rouse her with sweet words and inviting her to activities but the little Queen just stared at Sansa’s belly and turned her back to her goodsister. 

 

“When I went to bed she was gone,” replied Rob. “As are her brothers, sister and mother.  We did not raise the alarm in hopes of not alerting them to our knowledge of their escape. We have turned the castle inside out. Lord Umber sent men to scout the river, which is how we found my great uncle.”

 

Clegane rubbed his eyes and cursed.

 

Robb leaned over the table at him; “You are married legally to my sister and the marriage has been consummated. Surely you knew how that would change your station when you said your vows?”

 

“You had a wife, two living brothers and an uncle when we wed!” Clegane snarled at him.

 

The Hound looked sick.

 

Her mother spoke up. “I will write to my sister, she will shelter you in the Eyrie.”

 

“I’d sooner take my chances outside,” Clegane snapped.

 

Once the Hound had been chastised by Greatjon and Robb for addressing their mother so, he explained his reasoning; “Assuming we are able to sneak past the Frey army, (who I have no doubt will be marching down the River Road to claim Riverrun) your daughter, Lady Stark opened the armory of the Red Keep to the mountain clans of the Vale in exchange for helping us escape Kingslanding. So now every tribe’s man in the Mountains of the Moon is armed with the king’s finest steel.”

 

“Besides,” he said fixing her mother with a cold stare. “Petyr Baelish is fucking your sister. He’s the one who set up your husband’s coup to fail and he tried to kidnap Sansa out of Kingslanding. I doubt it was to bring her here.”

 

The room erupted into chaos as everyone talked at once. Arya covered her ears and looked around the room for an exit when she saw her sister standing disoriented in the doorway. Her hair was a mess, her face was slack from sleep and she had Clegane’s cloak wrapped around her several times to cover her shift and keep it from dragging on the floor.

 

She looked at Arya and mouthed “What happened?”

 

Arya stood up and yelled over the din; “Queen Jeyne is missing, Great Uncle Blackfish came back from Edmure’s wedding and the Freys slaughtered everyone, Clegane just told mother that Petyr Baelish was involved in father’s death and he doesn’t want to be Lord of Winterfell.”

 

By the time she was done, Sansa had made her way to sit in Clegane’s lap. For some reason the simple show of affection made everyone lose their train of thought and stare.

 

“Oh,” replied Sansa as one of Clegane’s meaty arms wrapped around her middle and his hand came to rest on her belly. “Well, have there been any ravens?”

 

Arya heard a mumble in the corner and saw the maester she had forgotten about stepping forward with a few bits of paper in his hand.

 

He looked clearly uncomfortable as he addressed their mother; “As I was attempting to tell you earlier, Lady Stark, these messages arrived just before Lord Brynden’s return.”

 

Their mother took the small slips of paper and read them over.

 

“These do not make any sense,” she whispered.

 

“What do they say, mother?” Sansa asked.

 

Lady Stark took the longest and began to read:

 

_Mistress Whent, how content_

_are you to see your garden grow?_

_Mayhaps it is time to end this game_

_and reap the rewards from the seeds you have sown._

_Sing a song of recompense_

_All men must die_

_Four and twenty littlebirds_

_Baked in a pie._

_When the pie was opened,_

_The birds began to sing;_

_Wasn't this the sweetest dish,_

_To set before the future Queen?_

_The hand was in his counting house,_

_Counting out his money;_

_Then he went to the tower,_

_And tasted poison honey._

_The knight was in the garden,_

_Unrepentant for his woes,_

_When down came a sunbeam_

_who burned off his nose._

_There was such a commotion,_

_that little man_

_Flew out of the garden,_

_To be soon seen again_

_Don't you fret you little bat_

_For the little cubs are good_

_One is in the shimmering water_

_The other in the flowery wood._

 

 

Sansa held out a shaky hand.

 

“Mother that is for me, may I please have it?”

 

Lady Stark handed her the parchment. Sansa took it and studied the text.

The room was blanketed with an uncomfortable silence.

 

Suddenly, Sansa startled everyone by crumpling up the paper and letting out a loud, howling, laugh. Her whole frame shook as she chortled. She put her head in her hands, tears streaming down her face.

 

Clegane smoothed her hair with his free hand; “Little bird, what did you do?”

 

Sansa sat up and wiped the tears and snot from her face with a corner of Clegane’s cloak.

 

She reached out and gently cupped the burned side of his face.

 

“Your brother is dead,” she said with a smile. “Tywin Lannister is dead. Tyrion Lannister has gone to Essos to treat with the Targaryen Queen. Tommen is in Highgarden, Myrcella is in Dorne. The war is over.”

 

Robb was the first to speak, “How could you possibly know all that?”

 

“Because one of the women who helped me get out of Kingslanding just told me,” she said turning to her brother. “The one who wrote this letter, Arianne Martell the Princess of Dorne.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole the rhyming scheme and some of the words from the nursery rhyme "Sing a Song of Sixpence". I'm not sure if its actually copyrighted or not.


	31. Sansa's Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has a dream that drives her out of bed to find Sandor and Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is full of cannon type violence/weirdness/Litterfinger and one part that is probably a bit much for most people and is marked with ***********  
> This is Sansa's POV and takes place from a few minutes after Sandor and Arya leave the room to go see Robb to a few minutes after the last chapter ended.  
> I will update with more of Sansa's master plan explained, as well as the return of Gendry soon.  
> Unfortunately I have to do this thing called "leaving the house" and "not looking at my phone" right now.....
> 
> Still no beta!

_As Sandor follows Arya to Robb's rooms, Sansa dreams;_

 

Sansa walked through the halls of Winterfell. She could smell the pine and hear the larks singing as she passed the windows. She looked down and could see her bare feet as they padded on the warm stone floor.

 

“Sansa?” she heard her father call. She stepped through an open door to find herself standing in her father’s solar. Her father sat, as he always had; reading through stacks of scrolls, sorting through bits of parchment, his brow was creased. He smiled at her approach.

 

She returned the smile, “Do you have need of me, father?”

 

Lord Eddard motioned for her to come closed. Sansa found as she stood by her father that she was no longer the gangly maid of ten and four she had been when she left Winterfell, but a woman of ten and six, almost ten and seven and she towered over the seated man.

 

“Sansa,” Lord Eddard pushed his chair back from the table and patted his thighs. “Come here.”

 

Sansa raised an eyebrow at her father’s request. She had not sat in his lap since she decided it was undignified and childish at the age of seven.

 

Yielding to her father’s request she sat daintily on her father’s thighs and he put his arms around her.

 

Sansa sighed and decided to enjoy the intimacy of the moment. She laid her cheek against her father’s head and breathed in the smell of horse, hearth smoke and pine. Underneath the familiar scents she smelled mint. The mint smell suddenly became stronger and stronger, almost burning her nose. Without warning her father slipped his hand down the front of her bodice and gently cupped her breast before pinching her nipple.

 

Sansa shrieked and tried to stand up, but an arm snaked around her middle and held her tight. It wasn’t her father’s thick brawny thighs under her bottom anymore; these legs were thin and bony.

 

“Is that anyway to treat your father, Cat?” a voice ghosted over her ear and the stench of mint clouded her senses.

 

She squirmed and fought against the man holding her. In her struggle she could see a pointed beard and flashes of his silver and blue clothing. He finally wrestled her face down against the table and whispered in her ear, “You’ve been a very bad girl Aylane.”

 

He flipped up her skirts and groped her through her small clothes; a brown lock of hair fell over her face.

 

She tried to scream but then she was flipped over onto her back so fast her breath was knocked out of her chest.

 

Sansa wasn’t lying on a table anymore, she was on a feather bed and it was dark. Above her head she saw a familiar canopy with its fabric pattern of undulating leaves and branches. This was _her_ feather bed from the room she had in Maegor’s Holdfast. There was a whooshing sound, like a fire catching and the room was bathed in green light. She felt the bed dip and she rose up on her elbows to investigate. Suddenly an arm grabbed her shoulder and forced her down on the bed. Someone was pinning her down and holding a blade to her throat.

 

It was Sandor. His face was dripping blood, his eyes reflected the green light like an animal caught in the glow of a campfire. 

“Sing for me, little bird,” he growled. He reeked of wine, smoke and vomit.

 

This wasn’t her lover, this wasn’t her husband! So she did what Sandor told her to do in such situations; she took her free hand and jabbed her thumb in his eye as hard as she could.

 

The man who was and wasn’t Sandor howled in pain buying her a moment. She squirmed out from underneath his bulk and ran for the door.

 

Sansa burst through to the other side and found herself in the godswood at Winterfell. Figures standing amongst the trees slowly made themselves known to her. Her mother was there; her throat cut open from ear to ear, her skin was grey and down her face ran deep gashes. Her friend Jeyne stepped out of the shadows; she was wearing a grey dress and a maiden’s cloak with the Stark direwolf stitched on the back. Her face was bruised and the tip of her nose was black from frost bite.

 

“Do you not know me, Sansa?” she asked in a panicked voice. “I’m your sister, Arya!”

 

Sansa backed away with eyes wide, shaking her head.

 

Her ankle hit something solid and she spun around to keep from tripping. Behind her, lying against one of the trees was Sandor. His face and neck were bloody and poorly bandaged. On his thigh was a gaping wound, she could see things crawling in it.

 

“I should have fucked you bloody,” he yelled at her. “I should have ripped your heart out and left you for that dwarf!”

 

Before she could react she felt a tug at her skirt and looked down to see a small person standing next to her. The figure looked like an unfinished doll; no eyes, ears, nose, mouth, clothes or hair.

 

“They took Robb’s head!” it shrieked at her in Arya’s voice. “They took Grey Wind’s head and sewed it on his body!”

 

Sansa covered her eyes. _I don’t want to look! I don’t want to look! I don’t want to look!_

 

She had been forced to look upon her father’s head, wasn’t that enough?

 

Then the pain started. It started deep in her guts, throbbing and unmerciful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**************

 

She opened her eyes and she was back in the Red Keep. She was in a bed damp with sweat and Grand Maester Pycelle leaned between her legs.

 

“Is this going to take much longer?” she heard Joffrey whine. She could see him in the corner with a petulant look on his face. The Hound stood behind him, his face covered with his snarling dog helm.

 

“I just need you to push one more time, my lady,” called Grand Maester Pycelle.

 

Sansa pulled herself up and barred down with every muscle on her frame till she felt something give way and rush out of her body. The room was filled with a high keening wail and she collapsed back on the bed.

 

She heard Queen Cersei ask, “What color is the hair?”

 

“Dark, Your Grace,” replied Grand Maester Pycelle.

 

“Such a pity,” she heard Cersei sigh.

 

Sansa pushed herself up on her elbows and saw that someone had dragged a bathtub full of water to the end of the bed.

 

The Queen’s breath was in her hair, she could smell sour wine.

 

“If you’re going to play this game, little dove, next time choose someone who _looks_ like the King’s family.”

 

She opened her mouth to scream as the Grand Maester held the swaddled baby over the water.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

********************

 

“ _Oh bloody hell I really mucked this up!”_

Grand Maester Pycelle twisted and then reformed into a dark woman with beautiful eyes.

 

She cradled the swaddled bundle to her chest and looked meek; “Sorry about that, I was only trying to show you want you avoided by helping my family.”

 

The room shifted and instead of the Red Keep they were standing in a dark round room. The only source of light was a tall, shiny, black pillar with a glowing tip.

 

“Quaithe cautioned me against pregnancy dreams,” said the dark woman. “I should have heeded her warning.”

 

Sansa stood uneasy on her feet. There was an empty ache inside her and blood on her thighs.

 

“My baby,” she whimpered and the dark woman looked horrified.

 

“She’s fine!” she cried. “She is fine! I have no idea where that last part came from!”

 

The dark woman ran up to Sansa and handed her the swaddled bundle. It fell empty the second it touched her arms, but suddenly Sansa felt full again. Her breasts and belly swelled, her feet and hands puffed up, and she felt herself becoming hot and sweaty. She even welcomed the simultaneous nausea and hunger along with an always full bladder and never moving bowels. When she felt her bladder being kicked and a growing moister on her thighs, she had never been so happy to wet herself in all her life.

 

“See!” said the dark woman. “She’s still there!”

 

“He,” Sansa corrected.

 

“Oh, no,” the woman laughed. “It’s a girl. _Trust me.”_

_“_ Who are you?”

 

“My lady, I am Sarella Sand,” she said with a tiny curtsey. “One of Oberyn Martell’s infamous bastards.”

 

Sansa hugged her belly. “Why am I dreaming about you?”

 

“You’ve doubted yourself, Lady Clegane,” Sarella said. “You’ve been wondering ever since your sister and husband killed those men in the inn if all of what you did was worth the price you paid. I wanted you to know that it was, by showing you what could have been.”

 

She sighed, “But apparently dreams get very strange when you are pregnant and I fucked it all up.”

 

Sansa did not feel like forgiving the woman.

 

“Hopefully you will not remember any of that nightmare when you awake,” Sarella continued. “But I need you remember to go check to see if anything came for you with the maester. My cousin sent you an update by raven and it should be there.”

 

“Why are you telling me this now?” Sansa asked. “I could find out in the morning.”

 

“Because everything is speeding up and your family is in great danger,” Sarella replied. “Fortunately your sister is helping my sister get to you faster. She will come with four other riders and a part of your family’s heritage. They will have details of what happened and reinforcements will follow.”

 

Sarella smiled at her wistfully. “The dwarf is on the same boat as my teacher and they are heading to the Bay of Dragons as we speak. All will be well.”

 

Sansa rubbed her belly and wished Sandor would shake her awake like she had done for him so many times.

 

“I think you should wake up soon,” the dark woman said. “Please remember to find the messages.”

 

The room started to get lighter.

 

“Listen for the wolves!” shouted Sarella and Sansa snorted herself awake.

 

***

 

Sansa was very irritated to awake in a room bereft of her husband. She managed to get herself out of bed and to the privy with a minimal amount of rocking and grunting. Pulling on a dress seemed too much work so she opted to wrap Sandor’s cloak around her shift and padded out into the hall.

 

Lyra Mormont was the first person she encountered as she waddled her way to Robb’s solar to go through any messages she might find.

 

“Have you seen my husband Lady Mormont?” she asked.

 

Lyra looked haggard. “I thought I saw him and your sister go into Robb’s chambers a wee bit ago my lady.”

 

“My thanks,” replied Sansa and continued to the Lord’s chambers. From there she followed the sounds of people arguing.

 

***

 

“It worked!” Sansa whispered under her breath as she gripped the parchment in her sweaty hand. “Arianne said it would work and I doubted her so much, but Sarella told me all will be well!”

 

The weight of the last six months vanished off her shoulders like fog burned away by the morning sun.

 

She felt Sandor’s breath in her hair and the skin on her arms prickled.

 

“What have you done, little bird?” he asked, she could feel his voice rumble in his chest from her perch on his lap.

 

Sansa suddenly wished they were alone. She was so happy she wanted him to bend her over and take her from behind right there. Or lay her on the table and take her with her legs on his shoulders. She would even welcome the wicked little game they played in Kingslanding where she would catch up to him as he patrolled Maegor’s Holdfast. He would fuck her in an empty room or shadowed alcove or even against the wall, then see if anyone noticed his absence. The next day she would have to pass the purple bruises his armor left on the insides of her thighs as injuries sustained by not riding her horse properly. A few memorable encounters resulted in her having to employ a scarf and powder to cover a bite mark on her neck.

 

Sansa smiled at the memory and leaned back into her husband’s embrace.

 

Her mother cleared her throat and brought her back to the room. Her mother, brother, sister, great uncle, the maester and Lord Umber were all staring at her.

 

“I opened the door to the Red Keep and let all the serpents in,” she smiled. “And together we brought down a corrupt and vile family. We changed the law of the land to avoid war and welcome a Queen who has 8,000 Unsullied warriors, two of the largest sellsword companies, gods know how many Dothraki screamers and three dragons.”


	32. Sansa's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa reveals the details of her scheme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a monster to write. I actually posted this saw a glaring error, so I had to take it down and repost. Sorry!
> 
> I am not sure if it makes sense, so i have posted a short a sweet summary at the bottom. If at anytime you feel overwhelmed, please just refer to that and I will have the next chapter out in a couple of days :)
> 
> No beta

Sansa was attempting to look as regal as possible. Her back was straight and her chin was high. She spoke clearly with an authoritative and wise tone.  However the effect was ruined for instead of a complex coiffure, her hair was messy from sleep and in place of an elegant silk dress she wore an old shift under a large green wool cloak. She was also siting on Sandor Clegane's lap, who looked far less awe inspiring as the Iron Throne with his messy hair and barely concealed exhaustion.

 

It didn't appear to matter to Sansa, she smiled at her family as she finally spoke of her master plan;

 

"After Myrcella went to Dorne, I received permission from Lord Tyrion to write to her. Even though Queen Cersei sought to isolate me from potential allies, Myrcella was always sweet to me and I thought corresponding with someone would help her settle in her new home.

 

It didn’t take long for me to realize that the person answering my letters, was not Myrcella, but in fact her soon to be goodsister, Arianne Martell.

 

We wrote to each other under the guise of me corresponding with Myrcella, as we attempted to gauge the motives of the other person to see if they could be an ally. We used a code of poems, songs, Cyvasse moves and verses of the Seven Pointed Star to make sure our communication was never discovered.

 

When needed, she called me Mistress Whent after my mother’s mother and I called her Lady Narrah, after the strongest sounding bell in Novos, her mother’s home.

 

We found we had so much in common; we are both first born girls of major houses, both of us enjoy poetry, songs and reading, and both of us were having extremely scandalous affairs with members of Joffrey’s Kingsguard.""

 

The Hound broke the heavy air of the room by letting out one of his barking laughs.

 

“Whats so funny?” Arya asked.

 

“That pompous twat Aries Oakenheart used to give me all sorts of grief over not being a knight and then he goes and breaks his vows by fucking the Princess if Dorne.”

 

“You’re fucking the Princess of Winterfell,” Arya pointed out.

 

“ _I_ never claimed to be _anything_ but what I am.”

 

“Ahem….” Sansa hissed at him before she continued;

 

"Arianne revealed to me that she had plans to spread Rhonyish law to the rest of Westeros by removing Joffrey and putting Myrcella on the throne. She had discovered her father had wished to marry her to Viserys Targaryen and make her Queen. She did not want this, why would she? As Princess of Dorne she is strong, people listen to what she has to say, she will _rule_ her own kingdom. To become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms means to be nothing more than a brood mare for the King, the same fate that befell her aunt Elia.

 

Arianne knew if this plan fell through, she would be married to one of the major noble houses outside of Dorne. If this happened, her fate would be the same; leave her home and sacrifice her power to become nothing more than a womb to be filled by a stranger. He father did nothing to ease this fear by bringing her political matches from inside Dorne who were completely unsuitable.

 

So Arianne tried to find someone for herself, and she did, in Willas Tyrell. They began to correspond and come to an agreement that if they were to marry, Arianne could stay in Dorne with her political strength and paramours, while Willas could stay in Highgarden with his political strength and his paramour, a healer from the Summer Islands who came to Highgarden to help him with his affliction. All Willas asked in return was for an heir to Highgarden.""

 

Sansa smiled. “It’s all very romantic, but unrealistic. Arianne even tried to run away to Highgarden with the help of Tyene Sand when she was my age, but was caught outside of Vaith.

 

Her only hope to keep her position and self-respect was to make the rest of Westeros like Dorne where men and women are equal when it came to political power and inheritance.

 

In an effort to recruit me to her cause she told me of Rhoynish law. In between her and the books I found in the Red Keep’s library I came to understand and like the ideas and principles. I agreed to help her, even though my own motives for joining her were completely self-centered. Rhoynish law has some very strict doctrines regarding how men are allowed to treat women . My favorite was, the man who strikes a woman, shall he himself be struck. Arianne won me to her cause by filled my head with the visions of being able to free myself from the Lannisters and the promise that Areo Hotah would personally scourge the skin off the backs of the Kingsguard for beating me at court if all went as planned."

 

Even Clegane gave Sansa’s blood thirst a sideways glance.

 

"However her plan to put Myrcella on the throne was ridiculous. It became very obvious that she had a very rudimentary understanding of how the rest of Westeros, especially Kingslanding worked. So I educated her, for I have resources that she did not; knowledge of the current laws of the other six kingdoms, access to the high ranking people, access to the inside of the Red Keep and a man who had spent more than half of his life working closely with the Lannisters. In exchange I had a list of demands that were coincidentally similar to the demands set forth by her co-conspirator in Sunspear; Oberyn Martell and his three oldest children, Obara, Nymeria and Tyene Sand.

 

I wanted out of Kingslanding and for the people responsible for my father’s death to pay for their actions. They wanted into the Red Keep and the chance to avenge the death of Elia.

 

I can’t remember who said this, but it is true; the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

 

 To escape I would need to cross the war torn Riverlands without Lannister pursuit.

 

In order to do this safely I needed the following;

 

Joffrey dead; there was no way he would ever let the disappearance of his favorite pet and play thing go unpunished.

 

 

Cersei and Tywin distracted; with an event so monumental that they would see my escape as something that required minimal amount of resources

 

 

The Mountain and his men needed to be out of the Riverlands; while they occupied Harrenhall it would be easy to send Gregor Clegane and his pets after us.

 

The first would lead to the other two but someone inside the Red Keep would have to take the fall for my actions. Around this time the Master of Whispers, Lord Varys caught Sandor and I in the middle of a very compromising encounter.

 

I have no doubt he knew we were lovers long before he made himself known as a potential co-conspirator. Even if we resisted his involvement, he had information that if whispered in the right ear would result in Sandor’s death and my torture that would only end when Ser Jamie was rescued. I later found out he had been working with Arianne long before she ever wrote to me.

 

His price was Lord Tyrion. He needed Lord Tyrion to be willing to leave his family to go across the Narrow sea to Essos. Lord Varys explained to me that Lord Tyrion would never leave his family willingly. It would take an action of cruelty by his family so heinous that he would have no choice but to leave.

 

I knew if Joffrey died, then Queen Cersei would blame Lord Tyrion and choose the Mountain for a trial by combat.

 

But even with Queen Cersei’s hate and paranoia, it still would be difficult to set Lord Tyrion up with enough evidence to also fool Lord Tywin. The answer came in the form of the Wildlings Lord Tyrion had brought back from the Mountains of the Moon to act as his guard. My interactions with the Mountain clans started serendipitously when Jofferey had me stripped and beaten in the middle of throne room after you won at Oxcross, Robb. Sandor tried to get him to stop, but it was Lord Tyrion who put an end to my ordeal."

 

Arya looked from Robb to Sandor. Neither looked comfortable; Robb looked away from Sansa’s face and Clegane pulled Sansa closer, Arya see the muscles on his face tighten as he clinched his jaw.

 

"After that Lord Tyrion would send some of his Wildlings to walk with me and discourage anymore abuse. I began to make polite conversation and learned much about their culture and traditions. Two things in particular stuck out; they followed the old gods and they didn’t trust Lord Tywin  to let Lord Tyrion make good on the promise of giving them steel weapons in exchange for their help.

 

They had fought at the battle of the Green Fork and told me that Lord Tywin while armored and mounted did not actually fight anyone. A man who would send men to their death and yet not risk himself was a man not be trusted according to them.

 

They also hated Joffrey. I heard many times from many different Wildings how Joffrey would have been treated in their clans for getting grown armed men to beat an unarmed girl. Most of it was some variations of a beating or being tired to a tree overnight. They hated the King, didn’t trust Lord Tywin, thought Kingslanding’s food was awful and it was too hot.

 

I used all of this to my advantage. One night I gathered them all in the godswood and swore by the old gods that I would give them access to the castle’s armory on the eve of Stannis’ invasion. In exchange I needed them to open the gates so I could escape and I needed them to kill Joffrey in a way that would make it obvious they did it. In exchange I would meet them before I left at the castle armory and open the doors so they could help themselves.

 

One of the Wilding chiefs told me he would kill Joffrey in the most gruesome way possible if I took Sandor with me when I went. He was the chief of the Burned Men, a clan feared even amongst the other Wildings. Their coming of age ceremony is a ritual were the men of the clan burn off a piece of their body. Whoever has the greatest pain tolerance becomes their leader. Timett son of Timett burned out his own eye! But one look at Sandor's burns made Timett see him as a threat and so he hated him. I still don’t know how much he knew about us, but he also insisted that he be present for our wedding to make sure that Sandor was more invested in me than his wife."

 

“Why the in the seven hells would I want his damn clan, let alone his wife who looked like the south end of a cow walking north?” asked Clegane.

 

"Hush!" Sansa hissed at him before continuing; "I acquired the key to the armory from Lord Varys and on the night of the battle I slipped away from Queen Cersei by using the castle fool as a catspaw and met the Wildings at the armory. Turns out Sandor had killed Joffrey by throwing him over the battlements. They tried to make it up to me though.

 

The fool was Ser Dontos Hollard, who I had deduced was working for Lord Baelish as part of a complex plot to spirit me out of Kingslanding. He was not happy with the fact I was leaving without his help. He got very abusive and started screaming at me about the money Lord Baelish promised him. When he tried to hit me, the Wildlings cut him into pieces with their new weapons and escorted me to the stables. I was reunited with Sandor and we rode out of the city though the gates left open by the Wildlings.

 

As Sandor and I made our way North, the disappearance of Joffrey would be causing chaos in Kingslanding. And if the death of Robert was any measure, Tommen would be put on the throne as soon as they figured out the Joffrey was dead.

 

Arianne arranged for Oberyn Martell to receive word of Tommen’s coronation while he and his daughters were visiting his brother’s bannermen, House Dayne. Starfall is a fortnight’s march to Kingslanding. House Dayne's heir, Edric Dayne squired for Beric Dondarrian when father sent him out to engage Gregor Clegane. House Dayne wants Edric back and would sent troops with Oberyn to Kingslanding. In exchange for assisting with the impending coup, they would be given supplies and reinforcements to search the Riverlands for the heir to Starfall.

 

Oberyn Martell hates Gregor Clegane almost as much as Sandor. He would jump at the opportunity to kill the man who raped and murdered his sister.

 

But from what I gathered from Arianne and Lord Varys, he is a very passionate man who has a tendency for dramatic displays.

 

He would probably do something stupid, like delay death and attempt to elicit a confession out of the Mountain to incriminate Lord Tywin in Elia's death.

 

But that’s not what _I_ needed! _I_ needed Gregor Clegane dead so he would never show up in _my_ home to smash _my_ children and kill me.

 

So I wrote to Arianne and asked her for help. Tyene Sand arrived shortly after.

 

My plan was simple; poison the anointing oil used to bless Gregor before his battle. The oil representing the Maiden is pure ambergris applied with an asperhillum to make sure the oil is not touched by the hands of man. Ambergris is used to make perfumes, it stays on the surface of the skin, but as the body temperature rises it becomes more and more absorbed. Tyene is a master of poisons and knows the ways of the Seven so well she blended right into the septa and septans of the court. Together we devised a solution of Wyvern’s Breath and mixed it into the ambergris. She would apply it to his face before he donned his helm without anyone knowing it was tainted. The poison would work slowly on Gregor Clegane's face as he sweated from the fight. According Tyene Wyvern’s Breath is a type of acid used to burn dead tissue from festering wounds, although it’s rarely used outside of the Citadel due the fact it burns live flesh as well. The burning of his face would drive Gregor mad, hopefully distracting him enough that Oberyn would be able to lay a death blow.

 

I don’t know how Tywin died, but this missive says he tasted poison honey, which could be poison, could be person…..

 

I have what I wanted; Tywin is dead, Joffrey is dead, Gregor is dead, and I got home safetly.

 

However I didn’t realize till I told Arianne about Lord Baelish's plan to recruit the Tyrells to the Lannister’s side that she had been conspiring with them as well. Olenna Tyrell thinks her son is incompetent and by helping Arianne establish Rhoynish law she gains control of her house as the eldest female in the family.

 

Olenna Tyrell is smart and would have chosen diplomacy over more war. They are merchants, why kill when you can sell?

 

So how does the Queen of Thorns and the Princess of Dorne get what they want?

 

They get the most powerful people in the Seven Kingdoms to agree to implement Rhoynish law in their lands. Arianne helped me get home to curry favor with the King of the North and Riverlands in hope that his little sister will sway him to their way of thinking. They also needed to put someone on the Throne who will embrace the change. For this they gave Lord Varys what he wanted; Tyrion on his way to Essos to convince the last Targaryen that she would have no resistance if she was to come back and claim the throne. After all the supposed last two children of Robert are now wards of the Martells and Tyrells, both Targaryen supporters. According to that missive, Myrcella is in Dorne and Tommon is at Highgarden. They are wards and as such, will hold no political power as long as they remain so."

 

Arya saw Robb squirm in his chair. She knew he was thinking about Theon.

 

 

Sansa yawned but continued;

 

"This is where Lord Varys’ plan meets with Arianne’s scheme.

 

He wants Danereys Targaryen on the Throne. By Rhoynish Law, she is the rightful Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. She has dragons, she has an army and now she has the law of the land behind her. So instead of her invading and burning the land, she could take the throne merely by arriving in Kingslanding.

 

Thanks to a daughter from the North, a daughter from the South and a grandmother from the Reach, the Iron Throne is hers and she would be wise to remember that."

 

The room was very quiet. Arya tried to repress a yawn.

 

_Well if no one else is going to say it, I will._

 

"So what now?" she asked.

 

“Mother was there another message?”

 

Lady Stark handed her the shorter slip of paper.

 

Sansa read it aloud;

 

 _Four horses come to fill you with joy;_  
_A grateful girl, a rosy boy,_  
_Two stars from a falling tower_

_And then a bushel full of deadly flowers_

"So what does that mean?" Arya asked rubbing her eyes. Honestly she just wanted to go back to bed.

 

“Four riders will come in the next couple of days, they are bringing something very important, something that is a part of Stark heritage.....Something about listening for the wolves.....” Sansa shook her head.

 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Whatever it is, I guess we will find out soon enough, but till then, I am taking my husband and going to bed.” She grasped Clegane’s big paw in her dainty hand and pulled him to the door.

 

Arya looked around the room at the stunned faces of the adults, then stood and followed her sister out the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's plan
> 
> 1) Using new found allies to set up Joffrey to die  
> 2) Escape Kingslanding  
> 3) Have Joffrey’s death blamed on Tyrion so escaped is overlooked  
> 4) Have Gregor Clegane face Oberyn Martell in a trial by combat  
> 5) Poison Gregor so Oberyn wins  
> 6) Have new found allies kill Tywin Lannister and take Baratheon children away from Cersei to make sure the Lannister's fall from power  
> 7) Not murder new husband in the wilderness because he is acting like a total ass!  
> 8) Get home  
> 9) Keep family from murdering husband  
> 10) Boar ribs with extra sauce  
> 11) Convince brother to bend the knee to new monarch  
> 12) Have baby  
> 13) Margaritas with Arianne
> 
> Arianne's scheme  
> 1) Set up a coup to institute Rhynoshi Law throughout Westeros as to make sure future husband does not usurp power  
> 2) Gather allies from the great houses of Westeros, convince them that Rhynoshi law would benefit their interest.  
> 3) Gather allies from inside Dorne to assist with coup in Kingslanding  
> 4) Help set in motion series of events that will end in a fall of the Lannisters.  
> 5) Assist in crowning a monarch that will embrace and enforce Rhynoshi law  
> 6) Marry man who will let you keep your power and not have to leave home.  
> 7) Maragritas!


	33. From the Roof to the Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riders arrive with an army of wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love all my readers so very much all around!
> 
> It might be a bit before I can update again; I'm off to live in a caravan with a bunch of neo-druids in the south of Wales for a week. 
> 
> Because, why not?

Over the next fortnight a cloud of tension lay over Riverrun.

 

Sandor Clegane and Sansa were given free run of the castle after it was confirmed that the Westerlings were gone beyond the reach of Robb's army. His wife’s family had been in Robb's confidence and now could sell all his secrets to the highest bidder. It was only going to be a matter of time before the whole country side knew the Hound was at Riverrun and had impregnated the King in the North’s eldest sister.

 

Robb reasoned that even though Sansa's marriage would be seen as a slap in the face to the bannermen who would have asked for his sister's hand, he needed every warrior he could get and there was no use having Clegane get soft from inactivity.

 

On the first day Arya tried to help Clegane by walking with him everywhere and introducing him to people she had met while posing as a boy. She also hoped her presence would lessen the chances of him getting ambushed by a group of angry soldiers. The news of the events around her Uncle's wedding didn’t win Clegane any supporters. There were a lot of people wanting revenge against anyone who appeared to be associated with the people responsible.

 

Sansa walked everywhere flanked by the Mormont sisters. She told Arya and their mother she did not expect anyone to harm her, but she was very much aware of the hushed whispers her belly caused.

 

Arya was astonished and pleased to find that the sisters actually _liked_ Sandor Clegane and approved of his marriage to her sister.

 

"Do you really think our sister got her children by lying with a bear?" asked Lyra when Arya questioned the women about their open attitude.

 

Dacey giggled, "Sometimes you can't help who your body wants to allow into your bed."

 

"Even twice."

 

"Or six times"

 

***

 

One evening Arya couldn't find Clegane at dinner and began to worry. She found Sansa( who was working her way through a rack of boar ribs dripping with sticky sauce) and inquired to where he might be.

 

"I don't know and I don't care," her sister replied tartly, then cracked open a bone and sucked the marrow out.

 

Arya found Clegane on the roof, stretched out behind a turret. He had a complete view of the lay of land, but someone on the ground would be hard pressed to see him.

 

"I brought you some chicken, “Arya said as she tossed him a sack full of food she pilfered from the kitchen and scrambled up the stone to sit next to him.

 

He tore open the bag and pulled out a drumstick.

 

"Thank you she-wolf,"he said before taking a bite.

 

"Why are you up here?" she asked watching the last rays of the sun drip below the horizon.

 

"I’d rather spare myself the company of those people tonight, "he growled with a mouth full of meat. “ If it’s not the men staring  at me like they’re planning where to hide my body, it’s the fucking green boys jumping out at me every buggering second to challenge me to spar with them. They want to see if they can best the Hound.”

 

Clegane threw the chicken bone off the roof before ripping another chuck of meat off the bird.

 

“I’ve never seen anyone angrily eat chicken before,” observed Arya."Robb and Greatjon will be angry if you beat the shit out of all their men before the Freys get here."

 

Clegane chuckled.

 

"That doesn't explain the roof though,” Arya continued as she stretched out on her back and watched the stars come out. "You could be back in your room nice and warm.”

 

Clegane was quiet as he finished his dinner. He tossed the bones into the river below before settling back to watch the sky.

 

"Your sister dropped her comb and is too big to bend down and pick it up, so she started crying,"he said finally. "I picked it up for her and she cried even harder for some reason. I was irritated from spending the day watching my back and fighting every fucker with something to prove so I told her to calm down and that she was overacting.”

 

"Oh," Arya whispered eyes wide.

 

She sat up on her elbows and asked, "So when do you think it would be safe to go back in the castle?"

 

"You might need to get me my cloak and a pillow," he laughed.

 

Arya's cackle was cut short by a queer feeling in her belly. She felt a shiver like a cold finger running up her spine. Then she heard it; a faint wisp of wolf song somewhere in the woods below.

 

Clegane sat up eyes wide, he heard it to.

 

It sounded like it came from in front of them, but then another came from behind and another to the left and right, getting louder and louder till it felt like the whole castle was surrounded. They started climbing off the roof when Greywind returned the song from somewhere inside.

 

***

 

Arya half ran, half walked to keep up with Clegane's long strides as they rushed to the courtyard.

 

They arrived just as the portcullis had finished rising.

 

At the head of a group of riders trotted a huge wolf.

 

 _"Nymeria!"_ she screamed and ran to her wolf. She threw her arms around her neck and buried her face in the thick fur.

 

The riders stopped a few yards away, dismounting and handing the reins of their horses to the stable boys. One rider practically threw himself from the horse and lay face first on the ground, appearing to be kissing the stone.

 

Arya jumped out of the way as Greywind bounded up to his sister and rolled her in the dirt. The wolves barked and danced around each other for a few moments before taking off to chase each other around the castle.

 

Arya stood up in time to see the people who were at dinner enter into the courtyard. Sansa had her hand on Clegane's offered arm. It appeared he would be sleeping indoors that night.

 

She focused on the riders; one was tall with silver hair marred by a single streak of black, one was a man with a fair face and curly brown hair, one was a stocky figure that might have been a man or a woman, one was a youth with pale yellow and the one on the ground had black hair and strong built.

 

_HOLY SHIT!_

 

Arya bolted to the last rider and stopped an arm’s length away. He was filthy and road weary but she would know him anywhere.

 

"Gendry?" she breathed. "Is that really you?"

 

He responded by pulling himself up and rushing into her so hard, he nearly knocked her over. He wrapping his big arms around her and pulled her to his chest.

 

"I was a fool," Gendry said into her hair. "I am so sorry..."

 

"Shut up, you big stupid bull! “she laughed into his shoulder.

 

Arya heard a voice behind her and turned to see Edric Dayne standing in front of her mother, flanked by the other riders. The silver haired man had a thick, long bundle in his arms that he passed to Edric.

 

"Lady Stark," Edric Dayne began with all the ease of someone who had been practicing his speech, but was still worried about his presentation. "I am Lord Edric Dayne of Starfall. This is Ser Gerold Dayne from High Hermitage, "he gestured to the silver hair man who bowed. "This is Ser Loras of House Tyrell," the fair faced man bowed. "And this is Obara Sand, the natural daughter of Oberyn Martell," the stocky woman also bowed.

 

“A lifetime ago your husband, Lord Stark honored my house by returning our ancestral sword after the death of Ser Arthur Dayne so it may be passed to another generation. I wished to repay this act in kind by returning House Stark's ancestral sword, Ice to you."

Edric held out the bundle for Lady Stark to take, and then followed up sheepishly, “Unfortunately, we were too late and house Lannister had melted down the metal of Ice to forge two new swords for their despicable family. My companion, Ser Loras has informed me that Lord Tarly has a smith in his employ who can work valyrian steel. He should be here within a moon’s turn with the rest of Lord Tarly’s host who are currently on their way to Riverrun. They are coming here at the behest of Lady Olenna to assist you in ridding the North of the Iron Born and break the Freys for their crimes against God and men.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just found out that my story is being recommended on one of the SanSan tumblr pages!  
> To see my work on the same list as Into the Wood, Seven More and The Loyalty of Hounds made me dance around my apartment till the neighbors turned up their TV. (I have no shame)
> 
> You guys are great, I would buy you all pumpkin spice lattes, if I had the money and the matter transporter required to send it to you all :)


	34. Sneaking Out of the Courtyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns the details of Gregor Clegane's death, Arya sneaks away with Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from a long pause with a new chapter!  
> Cannon type events regarding Gregor Clegane's death (might gross some people out).  
> And some Gendrya for those asking :)

The courtyard of Riverrun was in chaos as the news of the riders arrival traveled the halls. The Knight of Flowers, the heir to Starfall, a knight from Dorne and a Sand Snake arriving on their door step with word of the impending arrival of a Reach host led by Randyl Tarly was enough to bring out the entire castle.

 

In the middle of it all stood Arya and Gendry. They watched in fascination as people ran around like ants that have discovered a dropped sticky bun.

 

Arya watched her mother take the two swords from Edric Dane and cradle them to her chest. She made no move to unwrap them to see what the Lannisters had done to the Stark family blade. Rob was frozen as if he was experiencing a very disconcerting dream. Grey wind broke off from playing with Nymeria to attempt to nudge him back to reality.

 

Sansa was talking with Ser Gerald and bits of their conversation drifted to Arya’s ears.

 

“I assure you, Ser Gerald I am in perfect health in both body and mind,” her sister said. “With the exception of the usual discomfort and unbalanced humors brought on by my current condition.”

 

“I can see that Lady Clegane,” replied the knight. “But my Princess was very worried about you after she received your last missive. You must understand that code derived from the Book Of the Stranger that translated to _“Kill him”_ written three times with a hand so heavy it appeared to snap the point of the quill did give her cause to want conformation you are well.”

 

“I merely wished to convey the urgency in which I needed the demise of Gregor Clegane,” Sansa said primly. “My lord husband and I were placing ourselves in a very dangerous position by leaving Kingslanding, and I wanted her to understand the pressing need to complete the task at hand.”

 

“It was completed, my lady,” the knight had a cruel smile on his handsome face. “I was there to witness it, and I assure you, Gregor Clegane is very dead.”

 

“Oberyn didn’t try to execute any grand display did he?”

 

“He did, but failed.”

 

Sansa’s face fell. “I thought you said Gregor Clegane is dead?”

 

“He is,” reassured the knight. “Oberyn used a spear poisoned with a slow killing manticore venom to try and elicit a confession out of the Mountain to incriminate Lord Tywin in the death Of Elia Martell. The Mountain feint defeat then tried to sweep Oberyn off of his feet. But he was slowed by the poison you and Tyene gave him and only managed to break Oberyn’s leg before he was able to roll out of the man’s reach. “

 

“So how was the trial completed?”

 

“Gregor Clegane managed to get to his feet to finish the Red Viper off, but the poison you and Tyene spread all over his face was making him crazed. When he pulled off his helm in hope of relief, the skin came off his face.”

 

“Like the meat off a well boiled bone,” Obara added walking to stand beside Ser Gerald.

 

Sansa’s eyes got wide, Arya felt elated and nauseous at the same time.

 

“Tyene and I put as much poison in the oil as we could without it being detected,” stammered Sansa. “We thought a larger dose would be needed because he was such a big man….”

 

“There was chaos after that,” Ser Gerald continued. “Varys used it as cover to spirit away Lord Tyrion. “

 

“Onto a boat from Oldtown awaiting him in the docks,” Sansa stated.

 

Obara and Ser Gerald looked surprised.

 

Sansa turned to Obara, “Tell your sister to stay away from my dreams, and I still have not forgiven her.”

 

Ser Gerald laughed. Obara’s face turned sour.

 

“So the Mountain is dead?” Sansa asked when they were done.

 

“It took three days but yes,” Ser Gerald said.

 

“Three days?” Sansa gasped. “But, you said his skin came off!”

 

“Cersei had a healer, a disgraced maester who lost his chain for opening the bodies of living people,” Obara replied. “She kept him alive, claiming as long as the Mountain lived, the gods declared her brother guilty. But my father’s poison also kept him from dying. They tried leeching him but the leeches died. They treated his face with ointments but your poison kept eating at the flesh till there was nothing left in some places but bone. In the end, after my family and the Tyrells rid the Red Keep of Lannisters, with my father’s blessing I found him in the disgraced maester’s workshop under the Keep and cut his head off. Killed the healer to, mad creature that he was.”

 

Sansa sighed in relief, then said, “Ser, my lady, I must say this is a weight off my shoulders. Please, come inside, dinner was being served and I am sure you are weary from your ride. Ser Gerald, you may find my brother’s maester and send a raven to reassure Princess Arianne that I am of sound body and mind.”

 

Arya turned to Gendry, “Did you know all that?”

 

Gendry shook his head, “They arrived a fortnight ago looking for Edric. He talked them into taking me with them. He said they would need me to vouch for them with you when we got here.”

 

He turned his blue eyes to her, “I begged to go, I figured of all places you could be, here was the most likely.”

 

Despite everything happening around them, Arya reached up and grasped his silly black hair and pulled him down for a kiss. She slipped her arms around his neck and melted against his strong chest. His arms were around her in an instant crushing her against him. One slipped down to her waist, one sneaking up her rib cage.

 

Arya felt Gendry jerk when someone swatted him on the shoulder.

 

“Stop that!” hissed Clegane.

 

Gendry took one look at Sandor’s face and froze in recognition.

 

“Piss off!” Arya hissed back. “You once tried to fuck my sister while I slept in the same bed, so you can’t begrudge me kissing a boy!”

 

Clegane gave her a hideous grin, “What makes you think we didn’t? You sleep like a bear.”

 

Gendry looked down at Arya still in his arms, then at Clegane.

 

Sandor shook his head. “Get out of here, both of you,” he said. “ Any moment your brother and mother are going to notice you two if you stand here like a pair of love sick fools.”

 

Arya stared at him.

 

“You have an hour, maybe two before they’ll notice you’re not around,” Sandor rasped at them in a low voice. “And don’t be stupid enough to take him into the family quarters.”

 

Arya’s muscles caught up with her brain. She untangled herself from Gendry and grabbed one of his hands. She made to bolt when Clegane stopped Gendry with a big hand in the middle of his chest. He grabbed him by the tunic and whispered something in his ear. Gendry turned pale, then confused. Clegane chuckled and smacked him on the back before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

 

“What did he say?” Arya asked concerned.

 

 “He told me if I broke your heart he’d remove all the bits of me I didn’t need to be a blacksmith,” Gendry said before looking down at Arya. “Then he said if I had any sense, I’d pull out.”

 

Arya shook her head and pulled Gendry into the castle.

 

 

***

 

They ran through the halls of Riverrun with as much mischief and freedom as the dire wolves playing in the courtyard. Dodging people and scampering up the twisting steps till Arya found the door she was looking for; a room recently vacated with the sheets and blankets still on the bed on the opposite side of the castle from the courtyard.

 

Arya shoved the door open and Gendry slammed it shut after them. They fell on the bed without pretense or awkward talk. They kissed and groped each other with clumsy enthusiasm. No matter how cynical Arya presented herself when it came to declarations of love, in this moment all the stupid romantic tales and sappy songs danced through her head.

 

But the songs never talked about accidentally elbowing your lover as you tried to untangle yourself from your clothes. No one ever included a verse in a love poem about having to step back from an embrace so you could pull off your boots. No tale ever included a flowery passage about trying not to break a kiss while clumsily undoing knotted laces.

 

When she touched him, he didn't sigh and fall asleep. He did stop when she let out a squeal as he entered her. She wrapped her legs around his waist to keep him from pulling out and smiled at him. He smiled back and kissed her as they continued. It hurt, but in a wonderful way that made having him near her, within her, and around her the most beautiful and amazing experience she had ever felt.

 

Afterwards he took Clegane’s advice and spilled on her belly. It felt weird, but she really didn’t want to end up like Sansa and he was considerate enough to clean her off with a corner of the sheet.

 

As they dozed, spent and shy, legs tangled together she finally understood why, even now Sansa loved those stupid, sappy romance songs.


	35. With Gendry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya attempts to have a quiet dinner with Gendry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! The chapters should come out more frequently now. Thank you all for reading my story, I hope you keep enjoying my work!

Arya didn’t want to get up. Gendry was warm, the bed was soft.

 

_One hour, maybe two before they start looking for me.  
_

 

She rolled over and watched Gendry sleep. His breathing was deep and he snored through his nose. She gently brushed his hair back from his face and found herself smiling. He opened an eye and swatted her hand away.

 

"Just a little longer," he grumbled, making her laugh. "I've never slept in a feather bed before."

 

Arya couldn't stop smiling, it was as if the world was painted with a finer brush. Even the musty smell of the river coming through the open window was pleasant for her.

 

"My brother isn't going to take your head," she reassured him. "He has bigger problems than you deflowering me. Did you see the state my sister is in?"

 

"Who?"Gendry asked sitting up on one elbow. "You must excuse me, m'lady for I was not taught the lords and ladies of the higher houses when I was toddling around the tavern were my mother worked."

 

Arya swatted him on the arm. "I should introduce you to Sansa, she is a lot more forgiving and less of a pain in the ass than she was in Kingslanding."

 

Arya ran a finger across his collar bone, resting her hand in the middle of his chest. He shivered under her touch.

 

"Your hands are cold," he whispered. His blue eyes twinkled at her.

 

"Then help me warm them up!"she laughed sliding her hand down the strip of coarse black hair that ran down his abs and under the blanket. She found him hot and ready under her palm.

 

"I think we still have some time."

 

***

 

Arya was late. She knew she was late, but couldn't find the energy to care.

 

The second time they coupled hadn't hurt as much as the first, but there was something still missing from the encounter. Arya made a mental note to ask Sansa to explain a few things to her as she pulled on her boots. Her sister would _have_ to know, or else why would she still be rubbing herself all over Clegane?

 

Gendry seemed to have something figured out. He was wobbly on his feet and kept yawning as they snuck out of the room.

 

_Maybe if we go to the kitchens, we could use that as a cover for when mother sends someone to look for me._

 

Arya pulled Gendry through the empty castle. It was late enough the excitement had calmed down and those who could had retired some place with a fire.

 

They rounded a corner when voices from down the hall stopped Arya in her tracks. Gendry ran into her with a grunt. They both took one look at the figures standing in the hall and she shoved him back the way they came. They both flattened themselves against the wall.

 

"Again with this?"

 

It was Sansa's voice that reached her ears. She was using the tone she thought was inconspicuous, but wasn't. 

 

"Is it not enough that I have been sharing your bed for a year? That you have put your cloak on my back? That your child is currently in my belly and kicks me so much I can barely sleep?" her sister practically screeched.

 

Arya heard the hiss of Clegane's far more conspicuous angry rasp. She figured he had more experience at having heated conversations in echoing hallways and knew how to keep his voice down.

 

“I do not understand this self-deprecating obsession you have with Ser Loras!" Sansa countered to whatever Clegane had said. "Perhaps it is not me who has the attraction! Mayhaps you should rid yourself of these thoughts by acting on them! I give you leave, my lord, to resolve this tension! By all means, you are welcome to engage in a midnight rendezvous with the object of your secret affection if that will purge yourself of these indecent musings! If the rumors around court about Ser Loras are true, I am sure he would reciprocate in kind!”

 

Arya looked around the corner to see Sansa standing in front of Clegane, arms cross. She was the picture of fury in a blue and red silk dress. Sandor Clegane had his back to Arya and she couldn’t see his face. For a moment she was worried Sansa had gone too far, but then she heard Clegane’s horrible barking laugh. She became aware he was wearing his armor from the clinking as he moved, his sword was on his belt, he was carrying something under his arm.

 

“So,” he rumbled at her. “What you are saying is that you are giving me leave to go fuck The Knight of Flowers?”

 

“If that is what it will take to get you to stop assuming I compare him to you, then so be it.” Sansa said a little less sure of her suggestion than she had been a moment ago.

 

They were both very quiet for a moment. Arya wished she could be _anywhere_ but around the corner from her sister fighting with the Hound at that moment.

 

“Stupid little bird,” he said at last. “Let us go finish what you started so we can go to bed.”

 

Her sister and Clegane turned down a hall leading away from Arya and Gendry. Faintly she heard Clegane say "I can say with all certainty  no one has ever spoken to me in such a manner before."

 

Gendry grasped Arya's arm tightly as she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

 

“Your sister is wed to the Hound?” he managed to sputter out

 

She stared at him then punched him in the arm.

 

"Of all the things that were said, that is the bit that shocks you the most?"

 

Gendry shrugged, Arya smiled at him.

 

"Let's go to the kitchens," she said. "I'm hungry."

 

***

 

They had just began eating cold ham and mashed parsnips when the page found her. The young boy was wide eyed and breathless.

 

"My lady Arya!" he gasped in panic. "I have been looking for you everywhere! Your mother sent me an hour ago! His Grace is meeting with the knights from the Reach and Dorne and your presence has been requested."

 

Arya looked at him annoyed, Gendry kept his eyes on his food as he uncouthly shoveled it into his mouth.

 

"I am just having a little dinner," Arya tried to calm the young man down. "Where is my mother? I will go to her when I am done eating."

 

The page looked even more panicked.

 

"In His Grace's solar. You must come at once!"

 

Arya looked over at Gendry. His head was so low his hair fell forward obscuring his face.

 

_He's trying to disappear._

 

 Watching her boss a page around and flaunt an order from the Mother of King in the North reminded him of her position. She felt the weight of her birth status crush her shoulders.

 

Arya shoved a piece of ham in her mouth and smacked her lips as she chewed just to prove how much of lady she was. She drained her mug of ale in one swallow for good measure.

 

She made no attempt to muffle the resulting burp and told the page, "I will be there shortly. You can wait in the hall."

 

When the boy left, Gendry stood up.

 

"I should go find the forge, m'lady," he said.

 

_Oh gods, not this shit again!_

 

Arya stabbed her eating knife into the wood table.

 

"Don't start with this shit again you stupid, bullheaded jackass!" she snarled at him.

 

"I cannot go with you to your brot- The King in the North's solar!" he said through clinched teeth.

 

She wished it would have been as simple as telling him to go literally fuck his insecurities, but this was tad more complex than simple male territoriality.

 

"You can, and you will," Arya said rising so fast she knocked her chair over. What would Sansa say? Probably something highly manipulative that would prey on his emotions.

 

"Don't leave me alone with these people!" she cried. "You've been riding with them for the past fortnight, I have no idea what they want!"

 

"Do you think I do?" he snapped. "You think they shared their plans with me? Asked me to join their counsel? I spent a fortnight sitting around the fire listening to those _knights_ try to outdo each other with stories of tourneys and duels! Then they would start insulting each other personally till the Sand woman threaten to beat them with her spear! In fact she was the only one who spoke with me, and that was a grunt when I offered to sharpen her weapons for her."

 

He shoved his hair out of his eyes and continued, his voice becoming more strained; "That's another thing! Do you know how armed these people are? I've done work for tourneys and soldiers, but that Dornish woman has blades hidden in places I don't want to think about! Those knights appear to be ready for something big! Ser Gerald even brought some armor for Edri- Lord Edric!"

 

Gendry reached out a grasped her arm with a strong grip.

 

"You should come with me," he said suddenly. "Come, help me find the forge, let's go back to that room, or better yet, let's go to the stables."

 

Arya shook her head. "I have to go to my mother, she will be mad if I don't. You should come with me. My brother won't hurt you and I already told my mother we laid together, so it wont be a surprise."

 

Gendry blanched; "Why would you tell your mother we laid together?"

 

"They were going to marry me to Elmar Frey!" Arya spat. "Remember him from Harrenhal? He squired for Roose Bolton?"

 

"Roose Bolton's squire?" he asked. Shock turned into disgust; "He was the lazy shit who couldn't even sand armor correctly! He used to forget to pick up weapons from the forge then complain we were late getting them repaired!"

 

Arya nodded in agreement. "Believe me, if claiming I wasn't a maiden didn't work to get me out of that deal, I was going to bribe Clegane to help me stuff him in a barrel full of sand and dump him in the river!"

 

Gendry let her arm go. "I was really worried when I saw the Hound here, but…” The words caught in his throat and he leaned close. His voice became very deep and quiet; "Arya, those people, they're armed more than the whole of the Brotherhood put together! Both knights are wearing mail and plate and carrying short swords and daggers. You saw the Hound! He's wearing mail and plate, he has that big nasty sword on his hip. Did you see he had his helm under his arm? Are you sure he is loyal to your sister?"

 

Arya looked at him with wide eyes. She licked her dry lips with a sticky tongue feeling her belly clinch.

 

"Sandor Clegane would slaughter every man in this castle if it meant protecting my sister," she said with all conviction. "And why wouldn’t the knights be armed to the teeth? They just crossed a war zone!”

 

Gendry sighed, "Do you remember nothing from our travels with the Brotherhood? When you’re in a war you want long weapons or ones that cause a lot of damage with minimal effort; lances, long swords, maces, bows and arrows. Those people that brought me here have daggers, short swords, even Obara's spear is one that would be carried by a household guard, not a pikeman. Those types of weapons are for close combat, like fighting in a building or hallway or _solar_.”

 

Arya felt her stomach flip flop.

 

"That's why I made you that dagger when we were in Harrenhal. I knew that..... at that time the men could have... and I wanted you to be able to protect yourself in a tight corner."

 

She remembered the fight at the inn. Her dagger was in her room next to Needle. She felt like a fool.

 

“Those people brought me because they _really_ wanted in here,” Gendry said with rising panic in his voice.  “They are ready for something. I just.... I hope …. I don’t want them to.... after what happened at the Twins.... I hope for all of your sakes they are on your side....."


	36. In the Solar of The King in the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finishes what she started

Against Gendry’s counsel, Arya followed the page to her brother’s solar. In an attempt to pacify Gendry’s worry, she stopped by her room to fetch the dagger he made for her. To keep her nerves calm, she dragged him with her.

 

The page had schooled his features to give away nothing of his thoughts on the matter of one of the princesses of the North being accompanied by an obviously common man. He mostly just seemed relieved he was able to finally bring her to her mother.

 

When they arrived, the page knocked then quickly vanished when the door opened to let them in.

 

“That might be true of native soldiers,” she heard Clegane snarl. “But these were sellswords. They would happily burn their contract for a ton of dragons, a cache of wine, and a sack of Lysian woodcuts.”

 

Arya poked her head around the door. Dacey Mormont pulled her the rest of the way in, she and Lyra flanked the doorway.

 

Arya scanned the packed room. Robb sat behind his desk, Sansa was seated to his right, their mother on the left. Sansa was sipping from a cup of milk in her hand. Greatjon Umber stood behind Lady Stark, Great Uncle Blackfish leaned on the wall next to him. Ser Gerold stood across from Robb, he filled a cup of wine from a flagon on the desk. Ser Loras stood to his left. Clegane leaned against the wall behind Sansa. Obara Sand stood erect next to him with her spear in her hand.  Edric Dayne was nowhere to be seen.

 

There was a Cyvasse board on Robb's desk in front of Sansa.

Arya pulled Gendry to the side of the room by Obara and Clegane. From here she could see everyone clearly and still have a straight line to the door if need be.

 

 

“So the question is, where did Lord Bolton get those kind of resources?” Clegane finished. “Gregor doesn’t give up his toys so easily.”

 

“That also adds to the mystery as to why Jaime Lannister lost his sword hand,” Ser Gerold said taking a sip of wine.

 

Everyone in the room stilled except for the Dornish and Reachman.

 

“And when were you going to mention this to us?” asked Robb clearly annoyed.

 

Ser Loras answered, “We thought you knew. We thought you were keeping in contact with the Maid of Tarth.”

 

“Did she say she was sending us a message?” Lady Stark asked. “We received no such missives.”

 

Ser Loras looked shocked. “No she didn’t,” he said. “We assumed she was lying after what happened with Renly…”

 

Her mother looked as if she was going to say something but Robb waved her to silence.

 

“Where are the Kingslayer and Brienne of Tarth now?” he asked

 

“When we left, he was being held away from his sister in the White Tower,” replied Ser Loras. “We left the fate of the Maid of Tarth in the hands of my grandmother.”

 

“Well that settles that,” Sansa said setting down her cup of milk. She picked the Trebuchets off the board and set them to the side. “So what of the rest of the Kingsguard?”

 

“Ser Gerold and I took care of them personally,”Obara said from her post.

 

“Mediocre fighters at best,” scoffed Ser Gerold. “I wouldn’t trust them to keep a sheep safe in the Reach.”

 

Ser Loras shot him a nasty look. Arya wondered why Clegane wasn’t more intimated by the Dornish knight; he was almost ridiculously fair of face and looked more like a maid’s fantasy from a story book with his silver hair and dark purple eyes. He even had a superior attitude and a cruel edge to his voice, although he was very respectful to Sansa.

 

Sansa flicked over the Crossbowmen pieces. “And Lannister bannermen?”

 

“Ser Gregor’s head on a pike along with Kevan Lannister and Tywin’s bodies was enough to make them bend the knee,”Ser Gerold smiled.

 

Sansa removed both elephants, the spearmen and the rabble.

 

“What was the “poison honey” that killed Tywin?” Sansa asked studying the newly removed pieces.

 

Ser Gerold chuckled. Obara spoke up, “That would be my sister, Lady Nym.”

 

The room focused on her and she smiled. “She was waiting for Tywin in his chambers poising as a prostitute. She garroted him with his chain of office.”

 

Sansa gasped, Lady Stark covered her mouth with her hand. Greatjon, Great Uncle Blackfish, Robb and even Clegane stared her in surprise.

 

Great Uncle Blackfish was the first to speak; “ It is a relief that my grandniece has recruited you to our side. I dare say I am looking forward to see what your family has in plan for the Freys.”

 

“Simple battle,”Obara replied. “The Frey’s have hurt our allies, only those who cross our family receive such special treatment.”

 

"So what exactly happened with Joffrey?" ask Ser Gerold. "We never received the details of his death."

 

"I threw him over the wall by the Mud Gate during Stannis' attempted invasion," replied Clegane.

 

Ser Gerold shrugged and finished his wine. Sansa flicked over the king.

 

"What of Stannis?" asked their mother. "He was the next in line for the throne behind Robert. I know you say the Targaryen woman is coming but Stannis will resist her rule."

 

"We smashed his ships with our navy, then sent them to help the Dragon Queen," Ser Loras stated. "Lady Clegane informed us of the Lannister plan to use a chain to trap Stannis' fleet in the bay, so we attacked those who slip by the chain. Stannis managed to escape and the last I heard he was on Dragonstone."

 

"The Prince of Dorne is sending a member of House Santagar to treat with him," Obara spoke up. "Apparently Stannis had a deep respect for Aron Santagar during his time in Kingslanding, so Prince Doran believes he would be more receptive to a member of that house. Although, anything you Northerns can say to him will be appreciated."

 

"In due time," Sansa said fiddling with the pieces. “Myrcella and Tommen are safe in Dorne and Highgarden respectively, Jamie and Cersei imprisoned, Tywin and Kevan dead and Tyrion is treating with the Dragon Queen,” she finished.

 

Sansa took another drink of milk. “So that’s everyone then,” she stated and upset the board onto the desk top before sitting back with a satisfied smile and a hand on her belly.

 

“There is one other thing,”Ser Loras said, his fair face was scrunched up in apprehension. “Euron Greyjoy won the Kingsmoot on the Iron Islands after his brother died.”

 

The room grew restless, Arya heard Clegane clearly say, “Fucking hells!”

 

Sansa looked confused. “It is far too late for long winded speeches,” she said. “Please explain briefly."

 

Clegane interrupted whatever Ser Loras was going to say, “During Greyjoy’s Rebellion, we were given orders to bring Balon’s brothers in alive, except for Euron. For him we were ordered to kill on sight and bring his head separate from his body. He never appeared but it was a strange request nonetheless.”

 

“Robert was always over dramatic,” said Lady Stark.

 

“This order was from Jon Arryn,” Clegane replied.

 

The room became restless again. Robb waved them all to silence.

 

“What can we expect from Euron Greyjoy?” he asked Ser Loras.

 

“We believe he will try to take Casterly Rock now that the Lannisters are gone,” he replied. “What troops Lord Tarly did not take are being led by my older brother, Garlan Tyrell and others to protect the Reach’s shores. But a large chunk of our fleet went with Lord Tyrion and Grandmaester Marwyn to Meereen to get the Dragon Queen.”

 

The Greatjon turned to Robb, “Do you know how fares our navy? The one the Manderlys are building?”

 

Robb shook his head, “Even if the boats were ready, we would have to sail around Dorne.”

 

Sansa spoke up, “Theon’s death has been confirmed, correct?”

 

“Roose Bolton handed me a strip of his skin before dinner at Edmure’s wedding,” said Great Uncle Blackfish.  “If he is not dead, he is probably no use to anyone anymore.”

 

“He had an older sister, didn’t he?” Sansa asked.

 

Ser Loras perked up, “Asha Greyjoy. Varys says she sits in Deepwood Motte after loosing the Kingsmoot to her uncle.”

 

“So she tried to take the Seastone Chair?” Sansa asked. “That means she had support from some of the other Iron Born Houses.”

 

Robb suddenly looked at Sansa.

 

“Does she still have all of her men? Ships? Resources?” Sansa asked.

 

“Aye,” said Greatjon, his brows furrowed. “Most of the Iron Born have left the North, but she and some others are dug in deep.”

 

Lady Stark sat up a little taller. “Dagmar Clef jaw at Torhhen Square, Tristifer Botley is reportedly with Asha….”

 

Sansa let out a little noise, then looked sheepish and rubbed her belly. “Sorry, she said “It’s getting late.”

 

She rubbed her eyes and continued, “So take Lord Tarly’s forces after this business with the Freys and dig Lady Asha out of Deepwood Motte. Then tell her and her supports are welcome to Casterly Rock if she can keep her uncle from taking it.”

 

“No.” Robb said incredulously. “She is an invader and deserves no mercy.”

 

Sansa stared right back at him, “I am not ignorant as to what the Iron Born have done to our home Robb. But Asha Greyjoy’s resources will help our allies! “

 

“I will not make the same mistake twice!” Robb said, his voice rising. Arya saw Clegane shift his weight.

 

“She is not Theon, Robb!” Sansa countered. “She is a woman spurned by her people due to her sex! If she was a man, then she would be sitting on the Seastone Chair as we speak and then we would have no way of bargaining with her. But she’s not, so she’ll be more receptive to negotiations.”

 

“You’ve been in Kingslanding too long, my sister,” hissed Robb. “You have forgotten how things work in the North! The Greyjoy woman should face the sword, not the open hand for what she and her countrymen have done to our home! Do you think for one second your new friends would let such a heinous crime against their families go?”

 

Ser Gerold, Ser Loras and Obara remained silent.

 

“It is because the Reachmen and Dornish have set aside their differences that I am sitting here today!” Sansa hissed. “Oberyn Martell _crippled_ Willas Tyrell and yet Willas is marrying his niece and the Tyrells helped the Martells slaughter the Lannisters!”

 

“The Iron Born _slaughtered and burned_ our little brothers!” countered Robb.

 

“Theon did that!” snapped Sansa. “And if our brother’s lives were so important then why did you not march right back to Winterfell straight from the Crag instead of sitting on your ass and marrying that witch’s daughter? “

 

Arya sucked in a breath. No one seemed capable of moving. She had seen her brother and sister get in spats before, but nothing this bad.

 

“How dare you!” Robb snarled.

 

Sansa got to her feet as gracefully a woman in her condition could.

 

“I dare!” she snarled back. “You have no idea what I have been through, my brother, and I will be dammed to the seven hells if you think I will let you destroy all my hard work with your incompetency!”

 

“You may be my sister, Sansa, but I am your _King_ ,” Robb said warning. “And I have more than tolerated your shameful behavior! Now sit down!”

 

“No!” Sansa said shaking her head, her voice becoming dangerously calm. “ Watch yourself Robb, the last man who demanded me to be subservient because he was the king almost lost his cock!”

 

Arya felt a shiver go up her spine; she became very aware of who was in the room.

 

At her back blocking the door where Dacey and Lyra Mormont, both daughters of a house run by women, one marriage would strip them of their power. Ser Gerold and Obara Sand were loyal to the Princess of Dorne, Sansa’s co-conspirator. Ser Loras was from a family that held the other co-conspirator, Olenna Tyrell. And then there was Clegane, who was Sansa’s dog more than he ever was Joffrey’s.

 

Arya hazarded a glance at her Great Uncle; he was scowling at Robb. Robb’s stupidity had almost killed him at the Red Wedding. Her eyes flickered to Greatjon, he didn’t look very happy with Robb either. Arya remembered the conversation between Greatjon and her mother where he had expressed his thoughts on Robb’s ability to keep her mother safe.

 

_“Ned Stark would rise from his grave and strangle **me** with my own guts if **I** didn't protect you”_

 

“This is nothing personal, Robb,” Sansa said bringing Arya back to the room. She must of missed something important in her musings because Gendry was shaking like a leaf beside her.

 

“It’s just that under Rhoynish law, you are not the heir to Winterfell after father’s death.” Sansa said. “”Mother is.”

 

Lady Stark sat with wide eyes.

 

Robb’s jaw dropped, “This is treason!”

 

“No Robb, this is more than that,” Sansa said as Clegane and Obara stepped forward. Clegane placed a protective hand on her sister’s shoulder; Obara tightened her hands on her spear. Ser Gerold watched her brother with a smirk that twisted his fair face. Arya suddenly noticed he was wearing his armor and his sword was at his hip. Ser Loras stood tall, his armor shined in the torch light, he rested his hand on his sword.

 

 _Those types of weapons are for close combat, like fighting in a building or hallway or_ _solar_ _._

 

Dacey and Lyra unshouldered their axes and moved to either side of Arya and Gendry.

 

_.... I hope for all of your sakes they are on your side....._

 

Great Uncle Blackfish and Greatjon exchanged looks.

 

 “This is a coup,” Sansa said simply.


	37. In the Solar of the Queen in the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family, Duty and Honor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I would really like to thank welsheart for having my back on the last chapter.
> 
> I am in awe at the amount of positive comments I got over the last chapter! Thank you for being so patient with the slow posting schedule. RL is totally mental right now!
> 
> I know this has led to quite a few questions, hopefully all will be answered soon.
> 
> (I was also so excited to post this chapter it might be a hot mess, but hopefully a readable hot mess!)

Arya grasped Gendry’s arm and tried to steady his shaking frame.

 

 

She wanted to tell him; “It’s alright, my sister is just rebelling against our land and family by overthrowing my brother’s title of King of the North. We’ll get through this, my mother will do something!”

 

 

But what came out was a muffled and garbled “Fuck!”

 

 

“My sister,” Robb said slowly. “You are not in your right mind. Your imbalance in humors has clouded your thinking, so I will be merciful if you call of your dogs.”

 

 

Sansa’s face turned bright red and she snarled out, “ Mayhaps you have forgotten brother, but not even a half an hour ago you heard the details of how my actions led to the downfall of the sitting royal family. Do not think my thoughts are too clouded to repeat my actions!”

 

 

“Mayhaps you have forgotten sister, you merely have two tourney knights, a bastard and a turncloak dog in this room. But I have an army outside that door. You also forget that in the absence of our dear uncle Edmure, I am lord of Riverrun by rights and now command its bannermen!”

 

 

Sansa smirked, “My dear brother. You have less than 500 hundred troops outside. Ser Loras, how many troops march with Lord Tarly?”

 

 

“10,000,” replied Ser Loras, never taking his eyes off of Robb. “Plus support.”

 

 

“Last time the Reach laid siege to a castle Stannis nearly starved to death! How many onion smugglers are loyal to you, brother?” Sansa bit back.

 

 

She crossed her arms over her great bosom and continued, “Besides, what makes you think those troops outside will listen to you? Mother is older than Edmure, she is the new Paramount of the Trident even if her brother is alive! The troops of the Riverlands will listen to her! _She_ didn’t betray a Riverlord to marry into a minor house loyal to their enemy!”

 

 

“I married Jeyne out of respect for her honor,” Robb retorted. “And I will not be shamed by someone who ruined herself by lying with the Lannister’s dog! After what his brother did at Harrenhall, how much respect do you think you will find in the Riverlands, _Lady Clegane?"_

 

 

Arya had seen the Hound angry before. She had seen him grind his teeth and the vein on his temple throb. She had never seen him in a pure white hot rage before. The moment he stepped towards Robb Arya had a sick feeling she was going to watch her brother die.

 

 

 

Lady Stark’s voice snapped through the room like a whip.

 

 

 

_“Stop this madness at once! “_

 

 

Their mother was on her feet, her eyes burning, her jaw clinched. Arya knew that look; she had been the target of it before. When she got caught trying to shoot an apple off of Rickon’s head with a bow and arrow, she got that look. When she had hit Theon in the stomach with a log for throwing a rock at the stray cats that wandered Winterfell, she got that look. When she had stuffed her sister’s bed with sheep shit, she got that look.

 

 

 

The look said; “If I had it in me, I would beat you bloody. Instead you are going to sit in your room for the next fortnight and I am going to inform your father of your disgraceful behavior. “

 

 

 

“Sansa, you are going to make yourself sick!” Lady Stark said in an even tone.

 

 

 

“Robb!” their mother snapped. “You are going to make your sister sick! And unless you can find your wife, that baby is the heir to Winterfell!”

 

 

 

Their mother breathed in and snapped, “Now, _sit down, both of you!”_

 

 

 

Robb and Sansa returned to their seats like a pair of well trained dogs.

 

 

 

“My dear goodson,” Lady Stark said sweetly to Clegane. “My daughter is not in harm’s way, so could you please be so good as to take your earlier position behind her? Let me deal with my children, as one day I will stand back and let you discipline your own.”

 

 

 

Clegane went from murderous to looking absolutely bewildered at the respectful way Lady stark had addressed him. He glanced at Sansa who nodded at him and he fell back into place.

 

 

 

Lady Stark clasped her hands in front of her and focused on her eldest children.

 

 

 

“You two will be silent unless I speak to you directly, do you understand?”

 

 

 

Robb and Sansa nodded contritely. Arya had a momentary flash back to being seven and watching her brother and sister being disciplined for an incident involving Theon Greyjoy and a dead raccoon.  

 

 

 

“Sansa, this game you play is unbelievably dangerous,” Lady Stark said. “You have no idea what it takes to earn the respect of the Northern Lords, and to unman your King in this way is considered beyond insulting to your family and home!”

 

 

 

Lady Stark leaned in and grasped Sansa’s hand, “We have lost the loyalty of the Karstarks and the Boltons.  We have lost Winterfell and the surrounding lands. Our small folk’s lives are in ruin and the summer is at an end. All we have is the respect that is carried by our family name. “

 

 

 

Lady Stark straightened up and focused on her son, “Robb, I have watched you grow from a scared boy of six and ten to a man in control of a successful military campaign. But our home is lost and we cannot winter in the Riverlands and hope to be welcomed back in the North. If we ever want our home back, we must take back our land and restore our home before the first frost.”

 

 

 

Arya watched her mother’s face harden.

 

 

 

“Due to the actions of Walder Frey,” Lady Stark spat. “we no longer have the men to do so. Your sister and her _associates_ are offering us an army that is well supplied and fresh. The cost might be great, but what is more important my son? Your crown and pride? Or our family and land? ”

 

 

 

 “Listen to your mother, boy,” Great Uncle Blackfish spoke up. “You may have won against the Lannister’s in battle but you’ve lost your forces to the Freys. You have lost your land to the Iron Born. You don’t even have the forces to get past Moat Cailin! You are done. At least with your mother as Lady of Riverrun, the Frey’s have no claim to our families holdings, regardless of whether or not Edmure is alive.”

 

 

 

Robb looked at their great uncle taken back by both his words and condescending tone. Arya couldn’t blame the Blackfish for siding with her mother; Robb’s inability to keep his word almost got him killed.

 

 

 

“What say you, Lord Umber?” Lady Stark enquired.

 

 

 

The Greatjon rubbed his beard in thought. He had dark circles under his eyes.

 

 

 

“The Blackfish is right, Cat,” he said at last. “Do not forget we now have to make Roose Bolton answer for his crimes. From what I hear from Lord Lamprey, Bolton’s bastard has risen from the dead. We cannot allow the North to be terrorized any more than it already has by those demons. I say bend the knee, secure the support of Lord Tarly and go home.”

 

 

 

“Lord Umber, you were my most boisterous supporter!” Robb cried. “You lost fingers testing my ability to control my men, why are you rolling over for these people now?”

 

 

 

 

“My people want to go home,” said Greatjon. “This war, it has cost us more than anyone could imagine. It is late and fall will be upon us any day now. If we are lucky with help we can set things right and manage one last harvest before the first frosts.”

 

 

 

 

“I don’t think you understand the situation, my lord,” said Ser Gerold acidly to Robb. Arya had been told to fuck off in a nicer tone. “My Princess and Lady Olenna want your sister in charge of the North. She is graciously letting you live and save face by yielding to your mother. Lord Tarly will be here in a fortnight, do not think for one second he won’t turn his forces against Riverrun if your sister or mother is not in command.”

 

 

 

 

Lady Stark turned to Ser Gerold, “From what I have heard these last few nights, the Martells and Tyrells recruited my daughter into their schemes in hope she would bring the North and Riverlands to their way of thinking. So I am correct in assuming if she should fail, then Randyll Tarly and his 10,000 troops would convert us to this new system of law in her stead?”

 

 

 

“My Princess and Lady Olenna merely wish to secure a united Westeros for the Dragon Queen’s arrival as to spare the people from anymore unnecessary war, my lady” the knight did not sound reassuring in the least.

 

 

Arya decided she really hated the Dornishman, even if it was painfully obvious his actions were the result of his Princess having him wrapped around her little finger as much as Sansa had the Hound.

 

 

“When will the Targayen be here?” Lady Stark asked. “What does she bring to Westeros?”

 

 

Obara spoke up, “My sister Sarella works closely with the maester’s in Old Town. Her sources say that the Dragon Queen could be here as early as three moons. She brings the Golden Company and the Second Sons, 8,000 unsullied troops from Astapor, any Dorthraki who join her and three dragons.”

 

 

“War, she brings war,” stated Lady Stark. “If we do not adapt to the new laws, we will be crushed by the Reach’s forces here and our land will be at the mercy of Aegon the Conquer come again. This is more than Sansa upsetting Robb’s position, this is about us giving up our own sovereignty and bending the knee. “

 

 

The Dornish and Reachman nodded.

 

 

“And Lord Tarly will not accept our terms if they are not delivered by myself or Sansa?”

 

 

“He has been ordered to discuss matters with only Lady Sansa,” Ser Loras replied. “He is expecting her to be in charge of the castle when he arrives. He will not tolerate anyone else. Lady Sansa is the only one whom Lady Olenna trusts to have the same vested interests in the Riverlands as my family. However, since Lady Sansa wishes you, Lady Stark, to act in her stead due to the priority of her current condition, I am sure Lord Tarly will respect her wishes. But she must deliver this information in person; Lord Tarly is a very shrewd man, you do not wish to cross him.”

 

 

The Blackfish snorted, “Lord Tarly is a shouting, blow hard, that put members of his wife’s family to the sword for Renly. I do not wish to see what he would do if he is not satisfied by the leadership of the castle when he arrives.”

 

 

“I am very familiar with the nature of Lord Tarly,” their mother said with a strained voice.  “I met the man when I was attempting to treat with Renly.” Lady Stark wrung her hands.

 

 

“I have your support, Great Uncle?” she asked the Blackfish.

 

 

“Yes,” he replied. “You are my blood Cat. You have always been the level headed one and you have always kept your word.”

 

 

“Lord Umber, I will not take the crown from my son without your support,” their mother stated.

 

 

“Cat,” Greatjon replied solemnly. “I swore to Ned I would protect his family if anything happened to him. Aye, you have my support.”

 

 

Arya wondered if Greatjon Umber was in love with her mother.

 

 

“Then it is settled,” Lady Stark sighed. “Robb, you will yield the North and Riverlands to me or I will send you to your uncle Benjen at the Wall.”

 

 

Everyone visibly relaxed except for Robb. He looked from mother to Sansa who smiled.

 

 

“Dacey, Lyra,” Lady Stark called. “Escort my son to his room and lock him in.”

 

 

Robb’s jaw dropped. The sisters were on either side of him in an instant, grasping his arms and pulling him to his feet. Greatjon moved fast and pulled Robb’s sword from its sheath on his belt before he could try to fight back.

 

 

“Clegane,” Lady Stark turned to her goodson. “Take Lady Sansa to her room and lock her in.”

 

 

Sansa’s face dropped and she opened her mouth to protest, but Clegane was already scooping her up from her chair.

 

 

“Mother!” Sansa cried from her husband’s arms.

 

 

Lady stark crossed her arms, “Both of you said despicable things to each other! If you two are going to argue like you’re ten and two, you’re going to spend a few nights locked in your room like you did back then.”

 

 

The Dornish and Reachman parted before Clegane and the Mormonts to let them pass. Arya opened the doors and attempted to follow out.

 

 

“Not so fast, Arya,” she heard her mother’s command behind her. “Who is this young man you have brought into our presence?”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no problem with constructive criticism, (it was constructive criticism that led me away from the traditional trajectory this kind of story usually takes of Blackwater->Brotherhood->Red Wedding->Crossroads Inn->Quiet Isle/Braavos) but I guess some people don't understand the difference between constructive criticism and being flat out rude. 
> 
> Also, anyone who writes anything nasty, malicious or rude on someone else's comment will get their response deleted. 
> 
> So, let me reiterate what I said like seven chapters ago; I expect the reaction to the next couple of chapters to run from "Wow! to "Have you been eating mushrooms you found on the side of the road?" to "This is ridiculous, I refuse to read anymore, you very silly person." 
> 
> If you refuse to read anymore, that is your choice. But just like in a movie theater, please do not disrupt the rest of us when you leave. 
> 
> Sidenote; Sandor jacks off in front of Arya, I get one very well written comment about it being too OCC. Sansa threatens Robb, I get a troll. da fuq?


	38. A Moment Later in the Solar of the Queen in the North

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the out pouring of support! 
> 
> Here is a short chapter for all of you to enjoy!

 

 

Arya took a deep breath and faced her mother. A hundred lies ran through her mind, but in the end she decided to tell her mother as the much of the truth as she could without ending up in worse trouble than her sister.

 

 

Gendry on the other hand, looked like he would be willing to chew off his arm to escape the room.

 

 

“This is Gendry,” Arya said trying to keep her voice as normal as possible. “He is a blacksmith I met while traveling through the Riverlands and he came with our esteemed guest from the South to offer his services to our family."

 

 

Her mother looked Gendry over and then fixed Arya with a stare.

 

 

“Is this the young man with whom you were familiar?” her mother asked carefully.

 

 

 Gendry blanched. Arya stepped on his boot to keep him from bolting from the room like a scared rabbit.

 

 

“He is a friend,” Arya stated.

 

 

“Where is your family, young man?” The newly made Queen in the North asked.

 

 

“My mother worked in an alehouse in Kingslanding, but died when I was very young, m'lady” he managed to sputter out.

 

 

" _It's 'Your Grace' now,"_ Arya whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

 

 

 Gendry's eyes looked from her to her mother. A bead of sweat was trickling down his temple.

 

 

"And your father?"

 

 

“I do not know who my father is,” Gendry replied, then quickly added, "Your Grace."

 

 

Her mother's eyes narrowed. She turned to Ser Loras who had relaxed his stance and was staring at Arya.

 

 

“Ser Loras, do you know what your grandmother plans are for our family in regards to the unification of Westeros? Has she sent any demands?"

 

 

The knight shook his head causing his chestnut curls to bounce.

 

 

“Lady Olenna is always open to a marriage between families to strengthen the political bonds. But Willas is now married to Arianne, Lord Robb and Lady Sansa are unavailable, I am sure another type of arrangement could be discussed at a later date.”

 

 

The newly made Queen raised an eyebrow at the young man, “You have seemed to have left yourself out of that, Ser Loras.”

 

 

The knight swallowed loudly, “I have plans to offer myself as one of Daenerys Targaryen's Queensguard when she takes the throne, Your Grace.”

 

 

“Ah,” replied her mother. “So you bring me this _smith_ with the look of Renly Baratheon, who is also _known_ to my daughter and excuse yourself from talk of any marriage possibilities? Then proceed to tell me you’re going to seek favors from the new Queen.”

 

 

“What is your mother talking about?” Gendry whispered to Arya.

 

 

Arya whispered back to him, “I have no idea, shut your mouth if you want to get out of this room sometime soon!”

 

 

“What fate does your grandmother have in store for Stannis Baratheon and his daughter?” her mother continued her interrogation of the Knight of Flowers.

 

 

“I believe she has left that up to the Prince of Dorne due to the bad blood between my family and Lord Stannis. I believe she asked him to merciful.”

 

 

The Blackfish let out a barking laugh almost as harsh as the Hound's.

 

 

“Do you know the fate of Edric Storm?” he asked the knight.

 

 

“No, my lord,” ser Loras replied with the utmost care. Arya was impressed how well he was holding up.

 

 

Obara came to his rescue, “If memory services me, Edric Storm vanished after the Battle of the Blackwater. They say Stannis’ red witch burned him as an offering to her god.”

 

 

The Queen studied Obara for a moment before stating, “I would very much like to hear how our new law addresses the status of bastards and legitimization. Mayhaps you could educate me on this matter tomorrow morning.”

 

 

Obara Sand nodded, but said no more.

 

 

Her mother focused on Gendry. Arya felt him squirm under her gaze.

 

 

Something was going on and Arya was beginning to resent how vague everyone was being with information. She wasn’t a child, they didn’t have to talk around her!

 

 

“How much experience do you have being a smith, young man?”

 

 

“I was an apprentice to Tobho Mott in Kingslanding till I was told to join the Night’s Watch, Your Grace,” Gendry sputtered out. “I met Arya on my way North.”

 

 

“Do you still wish to go to the wall?” asked Greatjon.

 

 

“No, m’lord,” Gendry replied. “I didn’t want to go the first time, but I was told to go and then when the goldcloaks said the Queen wanted me- OW!”

 

 

Arya tried to look nonchalant as she retracted her heel from Gendry’s shin.

 

 

Her mother gave her the _look_ before refocusing on Gendry.

 

 

“We will need smiths in the coming months,” she said slowly. “Are you willing to stay with our family even when we march North to reclaim our home?"

 

 

Gendry nodded, his tongue had finally failed him.

 

 

“Very well, you will report tomorrow to the forge and if my steward informs me that you have worked well, you may stay.” 

 

 

The Queen waved her hand in dismissal.

 

 

“Thank you, m’lady! I mean Your Grace!” Gendry managed before bolting for the door.

 

 

Arya tried to follow him, but her mother’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

 

 

“He will go, you shall stay, Arya.”

 

 

Gendry looked at her from the hallway and she waved at him to go.

 

 

He disappeared into the dark.

 

 

“Arya, come here,” her mother beckoned her over.

 

 

Arya stood before her mother feeling very young. She had not felt this intimidated by her mother since she was disciplined for letting Nymeria get into the chicken coop back in Winterfell.

 

 

“We will be soon in the middle of a clash of two armies,” her mother said. “Your brother’s wife is gone, your sister will birth her child very soon and I find myself having to deal with an impending invasion the likes of which have not been seen in 300 years. Please do not do anything that might make me more apprehensive over the future of our family than I already find myself.”

 

 

Arya nodded her head, but said nothing.

 

 

_What you do not know, won’t worry you mother._

 

With that her mother dismissed everyone for the night.


	39. Wandering Riverrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya visits Gendry, Sansa and Clegane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness all of you rock! 
> 
> I finally have time to write, so enjoy this long chapter!

 

Arya sought out Gendry the next morning. The threat of the Frey army and the news of Lord Tarly’s impending arrival had set the castle into a frenzy of preparation. The forge was overwhelmed with activity.

 

She could hear the roar of the bellows before she felt the heat of the coals. As she got closer the air was filled with the shouting of the senior smiths as they directed the gaggle of young men serving as assistants. Arya hoped they had put Gendry to work with metal; surely his experience would keep him off bellows duty and wood collection.

 

Even in Harrenhal, the smith had not been this busy. As she approached she saw a stack of armor and weapons piled almost as high as she was tall by the entrance. The work was pressing; armor needed tending, weapons honed and horses needed shoes.

 

 

The smell of the fire and ring of metal overwhelmed her senses as she found Gendry working on a sword blade in the very back. He was smudged with soot, his face was set in an expression of intense concentration and his hair clung to his brow damp with sweat. Arya sat down on a nearby wood pile and watched him work. He once said he could make metal sing and in this he was not boasting. The metal gave off an almost sweet note as he hit it with precision. 

 

 

Even with the thick leather apron he wore she could see the play of the thick muscles of his chest as he worked. Her memories of his arms crushing her against his chest made her smile. She wondered if she could get him to work bare chested so she could have an unimpeded view. But it would probably result in some inconvenient burns judging by the amount of sparks generated when the hammer struck the red hot metal.

 

 

Then out of nowhere she wondered what it would be like to have Gendry take her from behind, bent over the anvil. It would have to be early in the morning or late at night when the metal would be cool enough to touch; but in her mind she wondered if the heat was bearable at that moment.  Or he could take her against the stone wall behind the huge stack of wood in the corner. She could kick off her breeches and wrap her legs around his middle like she had seen the serving women do at Harrenhal. Arya remembered the groans and squeals of the prostitutes in  the Peach. It was loud in the forge; she could make as much noise as she wanted….

 

 

Her sudden wanton and lewd thoughts made Arya sit up with a surprising moment of self-reflection.

 

 

_Is this what your mind does after you have sex? Once you have, you can’t stop thinking about it?_

 

This revelation made her understand the Mormont sisters a great deal.

 

 

“Arya!”

 

 

She shook herself out of her musings and looked up from to where Gendry stood with the anvil between them. Her cheeks felt hot.

 

 

“You shouldn’t be here!” he yelled over the din.

 

 

“Why not?” she yelled back. “Because I am too much of a _lady_ to be down here? Piss on that! I used to visit you all the time back in Harrenhal!”

 

 

“No!” he shouted back, setting his work aside and walked over to where she sat. He gestured to his face. “Your face is all red and your sweating! You need to get out of the heat!”

 

 

“Oh!” she replied and let him pull her up. She felt a little dizzy as she stood.

 

 

“C’mon!” he shouted and started to pull her to the backdoor. “Let’s get you into the fresh air!”

 

 

The air outside the forge felt cool against her face and brought Arya’s mind back to more mundane thoughts.

 

 

“I brought you some breakfast,” Arya said holding up a soggy napkin full of bread and bacon she pilfered from the kitchens.

 

 

“Oh good!” Gendry said grabbing the food and started shoving it in his mouth as fast as he could. “I’ve been here since dawn and haven’t had a break once.”

 

 

“Are you going to stay here all day?” she asked. His hair was curling as it dried and she was having a hard time resisting the urge to shove it out of his face.

 

 

“Probably,” he replied before taking a long drink off the water skin he had tied to his belt. “There is talk of having us work all night to get everything ready.”

 

 

Arya felt her heart fall. He seemed so excited.

 

 

“So I wont see you tonight?”

 

 

Gendry froze, a piece of bacon was halfway to his mouth.

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

Arya shook her head dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

 

“Boyd already told me I was to watch the fire tonight,” Gendry said lamely. “I can’t get away.”

 

 

“So I will come to you,” Arya said, happily seeing a solution.

 

 

“Shouldn’t you stay in your feather bed?” Gendry asked.

 

 

 “ _No,”_ Arya said through clinched her teeth. “I go where I want, when I want.”

 

 

“Do you know how much trouble I would be in if we were caught tumbling in the straw?” he hissed at her. “Your mother….”

 

 

“We won’t get caught,” Arya hissed. “No one is watching me! Half the people around here don’t know who I am!”

 

 

“ _BOY!”_

 

 

Gendry and Arya turned to see a huge filthy man with a leather apron and a shaved head leaning out of the entry way. “Get your hide back in here now!”

 

 

“I have to go!” Gendry said. He put a hand on her shoulder and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her but instead just muttered, “Thank you for the food.”

 

 

Then he was running back inside.

 

***

 

Arya fumed for the rest of the morning. She tried to visit Robb, but he was acting like a petulant child. All he did was snap at her when she tried to tell him of things around the castle. She left him sitting in his room petting Grey Wind. Her mood didn't improve till she found Nymeria in Sansa’s room. The direwolf was lying on her back, belly up, spine twisted and paws up in the air by the fire place. Arya flopped down on the hearth rug and rubbed the fur on her belly till the big wolf panted and her tongue flopped out of her mouth in joy.

 

 

Sansa sat by an open window sewing a small garment. She was humming quietly as she worked; she seem to be taking her confinement well.

 

 

“Where is Clegane?” Arya asked as she wrestled with her wolf.

 

 

Sansa didn’t look up from her project.

 

 

“Probably out beating someone with a sword,” she replied. “I told him that just because I’m stuck in my room doesn’t mean he should be in here with me. “

 

 

Nymeria rolled over and thumped her tail on the floor as Arya scratched her ears.

 

 

Sansa looked up and smiled at the wolf.

 

 

“He left after your wolf trotted in,” she said as Nymeria’s tongue lolled out again. If it wasn’t for her size and the length of her teeth she would look as dangerous as one of the little squeaky, fluffy dogs ladies kept at court.

 

 

Arya ruffled her wolf’s fur. “So you traded the Hound for a wolf?”

 

 

Sansa returned to her work. “Sandor is on edge,” she said quietly. “Mother sent out scouts this morning. Obara says her sister sees the Frey army only a few days from here, were Lord Tarly is still a fortnight away.”

 

 

“How does her sister know?”

 

 

“She… I wish I knew how,” Sansa said and she shook her head to clear her thoughts. “We’re going to be under siege soon.”

 

 

Arya flopped down on the unmade bed.

 

 

“We’re going to be fine, Sansa,” she said flippantly.

 

 

Sansa looked at her with an incredulous expression.

 

 

“Besides, we have the Hound and The Knight of Flowers and a Sand Snake, which is supposed to mean something,” Arya said with attempt at being reassuring.

 

 

Sansa smiled. “All of Oberyn’s daughters are known to be deadly. Tyene and I became close in Kingslanding. She was posing as a septa and would sit with me when the babe made me sick. She would give me things to drink that would settle my stomach. Tyene is a master with poisons but she would never hurt me like Lady Westerling tried to.”

 

 

Sansa returned to her work, “If they ever find that woman, I have half a mind to ask Tyene to make her some cake and tea.”

 

 

Arya chewed her lip and searched for something to distract her sister.

 

 

“Ned Dayne said that Dornish knight is supposed to be really something with a sword,” Arya told her. “You know what his nickname is?”

 

 

“No.”

 

 

“Darkstar!”

 

 

“You’re joking….”

 

 

“No, Ned says it’s because “he is of the night”!”

 

 

Sansa did laugh at that.

 

 

“But he is very handsome,” Sansa admitted.

 

 

Arya shrugged, “Why isn’t Clegane more hostile to him? He seems to hate Ser Loras for being a handsome knight.”

 

 

“Ser Gerold is the lover of Princess Arienna,” Sansa replied. “Ser Loras reminds Sandor of how things were before the war; when I was a stupid little girl who went weak in the knees when a handsome knight gave me a rose and crowned me Queen of Love and Beauty.”

 

 

Arya racked her brain for that memory and came up empty. “I don’t remember that.”

 

 

Sansa shrugged, “I don’t think you were there. It was at the Hand’s Tourney.”

 

 

Her sister held up her project and finished it off a few stitches.

 

 

“I haven’t wanted anyone but Sandor for a very long time,” she said snipping the loose threads. “I don’t care if I see another tourney or spend another day at court or be rewarded merely for my looks for the rest of my life. I just want to go home and have my baby with Sandor and never have to worry about some _knight_ murdering us because the sitting king is scared my family wants that big ugly chair.”

 

 

“You could have been Queen twice, Sansa.”

 

 

“I know, but the first time I was terrorized and beaten down by my king and this last time…. I don’t have the energy to do it. I don’t want to do it. I want to have my baby and be safe. I can’t do that as Queen.”

 

 

“You’re among family,” Arya said. “We would keep you safe.”

 

 

“That didn’t work last time, now did it?” Sansa said her voice dripping with malice. “I was in Kingslanding for _two years_ Arya. Every day I would awake and wonder what kind of horrible punishment Joffrey would inflict upon me for the crime of being a Stark. Every time Robb won, he would beat me or do worse…”

 

 

Sansa stared out the window. Arya squirmed. She didn’t want to have this conversation but it seemed her sister needed to and she should listen.

 

 

“Robb did nothing,” her sister said softly. “He never came for me. He never even tried. He could have promised my hand to someone if they would rescue me out of that place. For a long time I hoped for that every day; that some knight or lord would come for me and take me away. In the end the closest thing I got to a knight rescuing me was a drunken sod who wanted to sell me to _Littlefinger_. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

 

 

“Do you ever regret it?” Arya asked keeping her voice low as if Clegane was around the corner.

 

 

“At first,” her sister admitted. “It hurt the first couple of times because he was drunk and not careful. Then he would sulk in his guilt in the morning, and not even look at me because he knew he was doing something wrong. But I didn’t care, I was convinced that I was going to die. After Lord Tyrion put an end to my humiliation at court, Joffrey took me into the rooms under Maegor's Holdfast and showed me how he was going to kill me if I dared to defy him again. Then he locked me down there and I thought I was going to die then.... but one of the Undergaolers for the black cells heard me calling for help and let me out. I came to believe that soon there would be nothing left of me but scraps. My life would be nothing more than fodder for a dramatic song to be played at pubs and feasts to remind people how it could be so much worse."

 

Sansa sighed and rubbed her belly, "Virgin martyrs die the same as everyone else, Arya. Only they die ignorant of the ways and joys of the world."

 

 

Arya heard the Hound's raspy voice in her memory; _Joffrey did things to her that she will never speak of, even to me. Now she can put it behind her and hopefully forget._

 

 

 

Sansa sniffed back tears but continued with a smile; “Being ignorant was how I had lived my life up to that point and being pure was how I ended up where I was in the first place. So I tried everything I could; I got drunk, I laid with a man, I stole things from the Queen’s chamber to see if she would notice and I snuck out of my room at night and explored the Keep.”

 

 

Arya laughed sadly, “Did you ever get caught?”

 

 

Sansa looked at her sister while she rubbed her belly and shook her head.

 

 

“When Sandor started doing things for me, it was intoxicating how much power he had over Joffrey,” she smiled. “I wasn’t afraid anymore and starting asking my maid how to make coupling with him more enjoyable.”

 

 

Sansa blushed from her hair to her chest. “The more enjoyable it was with him, the better life became. Joffrey didn’t scare me anymore. I was a woman and he was stupid little boy who would never know how amazing it was to be with someone who made you feel so good that for a moment you no longer feared death.”

 

 

Arya saw her chance and took it.

 

 

“So what were these things did your maid explained to you?"

 

 

Sansa laughed.

 

 

“It was that boy in the room with you last night, wasn’t it? That was Gendry!”

 

 

_Shit, she remembered._

 

“Yes,” Arya muttered.

 

 

Sansa laughed again. “I asked Sandor if he had seen you when the riders came in last night and he told me to not worry, you’d "be around"!”

 

 

“Oh gods.” Arya made a mental note to kick Clegane the next time she saw him.

 

 

“Are you going to answer the question or not, Sansa?”

 

 

Her sister made a tsking noise at her. “If you get caught, I know nothing. Just promise me one thing.”

 

 

“What is that?”

 

 

“Tell him to pull out.”

 

 

***

 

Arya left the room after Sansa had told her something about “using her pinkie finger”. A few minutes into the conversation she had banished the reoccurring reminder that Sansa had done everything she described with Clegane at some point and instead imaged doing them with Gendry. Arya’s face was flushed and she felt like she needed a bath.

 

 

A cold bath.

 

***

 

Arya found Clegane up on the roof after dinner.

 

 

“Shouldn’t you be in your room with Sansa?” Arya asked settling down next to him.

 

 

“She’s sleeping,” he replied. “What are you doing up here?”

 

 

“I was hoping to spend some time up here watching the stars.”

 

 

“So you need a cover to explain why your aren’t in your room at this time of night.”

 

 

Arya made a face at him.

 

 

“Do not worry she-wolf, I will say you were up here all night, just make sure your blacksmith is back at work come dawn.”

 

 

Arya didn’t know if she should feel annoyed or thankful.

 

 

“Do you know where he is?”

 

 

“The forge I reckon,” replied Clegane. “With two armies about to land on our door step they are working through the night.”

 

 

Arya looked out at the horizon. She saw a strip of light in the distance.

 

 

“Is that them?” she asked pointing. “Is that Lord Tarly?”

 

 

“That is the Frey army,” Clegane explained. “The scouts reported they have close to four thousand men. They should be here in a few days.”

 

 

Arya felt her stomach twist.

 

 

Her face must of portrayed her anxiety because Clegane swatted her on the arm and motioned for her to follow him to the other side of the roof. Off in the distance she saw a long strip of bright light that overwhelmed the stars at the horizon. For a second she was disoriented, it looked like the sun was setting in the south.

_“That_ is Lord Tarly’s army,” Clegane said. “He has ten thousand troops, including knights and cavalry. He also has a support train the size of a city. If I was Walder Frey I would run back to the Twins and lock up the bridges. Even if they get here first and take Riverrun, Lord Tarly will dig them out and slaughter them down to man.”

 

 

“Have you ever met Lord Tarly?” Arya asked.

 

 

Clegane shook his head. “He fought against Robert during the Rebellion so he wasn't welcome at court. Robert said he respected him for being able to beat the shit out of his forces at the Battle of Ashford. It is said that his men fight so well because they fear the enemy less than Lord Tarly’s wrath.”

 

 

Arya looked at Clegane, “Are you going to fight, or just come up here with some peanuts and watch?”

 

 

Clegane let out a barking laugh.

 

 

“Leaving Riverrun would be suicide," he told her. “Unless something changes, I am perfectly happy to sit in here and watch your sister stitch dire wolves and black dogs on clothes for the babe till Lord Tarly grinds the Freys into sausage filling.”

 

 

Arya nodded in agreement then leaned back on the sloped roof.

 

 

“I tried to say the names last night,” she said. “All that is left is Amory Lorch, Queen Cersei, and Ilyn Payne.”

 

 

Clegane snorted, “I guess you were too busy with your blacksmith to hear the news; Ser Armory was fed to a bear at Harrenhal by some sellswords.”

 

"A bear?" she sat up. "Where did they get a bear?! There wasn't a bear at Harrenhal when I left!"

 

Clegane shrugged.

 

 

"You will have to wait for the Dragon Queen to execute Cersei and Ilyn Payne."

 

 

Neither of them spoke for a while.

 

 

“Does the Mountain’s death mean you are now Lord Clegane?” Arya asked.

 

 

“Gods,” snarled the Hound. “Never call me that!”

 

 

Arya decided to poke the dog; “You know if Robb dies, Sansa will be Lady of Winterfell and therefore you will be Lord of Winterfell.”

 

 

“Remind me to guard your brother," Clegane muttered. "I will not be forced to be Lord of Winterfell because he stepped on a rusty nail or rode off a cliff while staring at a map!”

 

 

“I think you’d make a fine Lord of Winterfell,” Arya snickered. “You wouldn’t be the worse one ever.”

 

 

“Oh?”

 

 

“Well there was Brandon the Mad.”

 

 

“What did he do?”

 

 

“He decided he would stop the Iron Born raiding the western shore by ordering his soldiers to attack the ocean for allowing their ships to reach land."

 

 

“What did his soldiers do?”

 

 

“Went to Last Hearth, drank all the Umber’s beer, then returned to Winterfell where they lopped his head off and put his cousin in charge.”

 

 

“Sounds reasonable.”

 

 

“Then there was Brandon the Stupid.”

 

 

“You Northerners aren’t very creative with names are you?”

 

 

“He tried to put armor on ravens and hawks. But the armor was so heavy they couldn’t fly.”

 

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

 

 

“Then there was Ynei the Spikeful.”

 

 

“Spitefull?”

 

 

“No, Spikefull, because she put people on spikes!”

 

 

“You made that up.”

 

 

“No I didn’t! Maester Luwin read about her at the Citadel. He says she is the reason Skagos has unicorns!”

 

 

“What?”

 

 

“She bred a type of horse that had a spike on its head.”

 

 

“So he made it up.”

 

 

“No he didn’t! He had a link for history!”

 

 

“So he read a bunch of shit made up by some other people.”

 

 

“I bet you never studied history!”

 

 

“Gregor strangled the maester for correcting his math. The replacement didn’t pick up where his predecessor left off.”

 

 

"So how would you know what is true and what is not if you never studied it?"

 

 

 Clegane shook his head.

 

“Just because a few people make something up and tell everyone it is so, doesn’t make it true, she-wolf. Remember that,” he said pulling her towards the edge. “You go tumble your blacksmith and if anyone asks, I’ll tell them you were with me.”

 


	40. Sneaking into the Smithy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya seeks out Gendry in the middle of the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am absolute rubbish at writing smut. 
> 
> I also have only read a small amount of Gendrya (compared to the amount of Sansan), as I wanted to write the characters without too much influence from other sources. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you all at least find some entertainment.....
> 
> Prehaps I need a beta and someone to write good smut for me!
> 
> I am also on tumblr now; rougefox97969.tumblr.com . (It is lacking in content at the moment) If you wish to message me, please feel free!

 

 

Arya made her way back to her room with all the nonchalance she could muster. Once behind a closed door she wriggled out of her tunic and breeches then pulled a simple dress over her head. She figured no one would expect her to be dressed as such so it would be easier to sneak around.

 

 

Sansa told her that hiding in plain sight was the best cover. Arya had thrown herself back on the bed and groaned when her sister related a story where the castle had hosted a large feast and no one had given her a second look when she met up with the Hound that night because she borrowed a dress from her maid. No one cared if a maid got tumbled by a solider, just as no one would notice a smith rolling in the hay with a scruffy kitchen girl.

 

 

“Just make sure return any borrowed clean and free of rips and snags,” said her sister, almost taking joy in watching Arya squirm. Even when it came to subterfuge and fornication Sansa was still the thoughtful lady.

 

 

Arya tried to examination her reflection in her hand mirror by the dim light of a single candle. Her hair was still short, although it was growing back evenly thanks to Sansa's precision with shears. Arya had made a point of not washing her face and rubbed some ash onto the back of her hands for good measure. She cracked her door and watched for guard patrols then wrapped a cloak around her shoulders, pulled up the hood and scampered out into the night.

 

 

**

 

 

Gendry was sleeping on a straw pallet by a stack of logs in the smithy. He was covered in soot with small stripes of clean skin where sweat had run down his brow. It looked like he had collapsed from exhaustion as he had not even bothered to remove his boots.

 

 

At first Arya had been worried she would have to sneak him back to an empty room. But she had passed another smith with a serving wench under him as she made her way to where Gendry lay. She guessed as long as they didn’t make much noise, people would just look the other way.

 

 

She knelt beside Gendry’s sleep form. Unlike the Hound, he didn’t snore, just breathed loudly through his nose. Arya plucked a few pieces of straw from a busted seam in his pallet and tickled his nose. He swatted at her and grumbled. She snickered and his eyes flew open.

 

 

“You shouldn’t be here!” he hissed.

 

 

Arya shrugged. Sansa told her of a sure fire way to make men stop over thinking the situation. Or thinking at all for that matter.

 

 

She put a finger to her lips to hush him and then reached down to undo the laces on his breeches.

 

 

“Arya!” Gendry sat up on his elbows, eyes wide. “We’re not in the hayloft of some inn’s barn! We’re going to get caught!”

 

 

“Do you want me to leave?” Arya asked crawling up the length of his body and pressing herself against him. She snaked her hand down the front of his breeches and gently touched him. “Because if that is what you really want, I’ll stop and go inside.”

 

 

“No,” he replied. Gendry was looking more relaxed with every stroke. “I just don’t want to face the consequences for tumbling a princess in the straw of her Queen mother’s castle forge,” he breathed into her ear.

 

 

“So come inside with me to my feather bed.”

 

 

“I can’t, I have to stay here to watch the fires so they are ready in the morning.”

 

 

Arya froze for a moment annoyed at his sudden sense of propriety and hierarchy, but then had a deviously wicked thought came to her mind.

 

 

She pressed her check to his and whispered in his ear trying not to giggle, “What if I ordered you to fuck me?”

 

 

He stilled under her then laughed so hard she felt it in her chest.

 

 

Arya sat up on his chest and grasped the front of his shirt. “You are a mere lowly smith, I am a princess and you will do what I tell you.”

 

 

“You said that with a straight face!” Gendry laughed harder.

 

 

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the laughter in.

 

 

_I am being ridiculous._

 

“Are you going to be defiant?” Arya asked unable to keep the smile from her face. She was turning red from repressed laughter. “Because you are in the service of _my family_ and I order you to do your duty!”

 

 

_Gods I sound like a twit._

 

 

_I sound like Sansa use to!_

 

 

Gendry rubbed the tears from his eyes and gathered himself enough to manage “Whatever my princess commands.”

 

 

Arya wasn’t quite sure what that might entail, but Gendry must have understood as he flipped her over so fast her legs flew up in the air and she landed on her back with a very unladylike grunt. Her skirts fell around her hips giving Gendry a full view of her lack of small clothes. Her cheeks felt very hot as she realized how stupid she must look.

 

 

Gendry didn’t seem to mind as he grasped her around her waist and pulled her close. He spread her legs further apart and then pulled her up till her knees rested on his broad shoulders. He kissed the insides of her thighs making her let out a very small squeak in shock. She laughed at how ridiculous she must look, but then he was breathing on her woman’s place and it made her squirm.

 

 

He lifted his head to her disappointment.

 

 

“Is this what my princess meant?” he smiled at her as he touched her lightly.

 

 

“Why- what are you doing?” she asked arching her back.

 

 

“Just making sure I understood my orders correctly,” he smirked brushing against her lightly with a finger making her twitch.

 

 

Arya tried to pull herself up and reach for his hair.

 

 

“ _You stupid bull!_ ”

 

 

He cocked his head and she missed.

 

 

“What was that you wanted again?” he teased her entrance making her gasp. “Service? What kind of service does m’lady need?”

 

 

“It’s not m’lady you fucking…. “ Arya hissed and he dipped a finger inside her and she gasped.

 

 

“I couldn’t quite make that out,” he teased.

 

 

This time she managed rear up and grasp his hair.

 

 

“If you don’t stop teasing me right now, I swear by the old gods and new _I_ will take your head at first light!”

 

 

“As my princess commands,” he snickered before he dove between her legs.

 

 

Arya gasped as he did amazing things with his tongue and fingers. It was obvious he had done this sort of thing before, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she writhed on the floor.

 

 

For all the caution he wanted to take to not get caught, he didn’t stop her when her gasping turned into moaning and finally a full wail when he found the right combination of places to touch.

 

 

Arya slammed her legs closed on his head when she peaked. Gendry swore as he dropped her middle and sat back rubbing his neck where she had twisted his head with her thighs.

 

 

Somewhere in the smithy she heard men laugh and applauding.

 

 

_Oh yeah, there are other people around._

 

 

She laughed weakly as she slowly sat up and smoothed her soot covered skirts over her knees before crawling over to him. He was blushing so she kissed him.

 

 

“Do you want me to thank you for your service?” she whispered to him.


	41. The Training Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark days begin at Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was made aware of a repetitive sentence and when I went to fix it I found I had put up the extremely filthy version of this chapter. It has now been edited, sorry for the inconvenience.

 

The morning light hit Arya like a hammer when she walked into the court yard. After four nights of sneaking out to tumble Gendry by the forge, she decided tonight it was his turn to figure out a way to come to her in her feather bed. It was harder to get the soot and wood dust out of her dress than she thought and her knees still ached from riding him with only the thin straw pallet between them and the cold stone floor

 

 

The castle around her was still on edge. The Frey Army had been slowed by a cold rain that had seemly come out of nowhere. People said it was a sigh from the gods, Clegane just grumbled how the rain would also slow the Tyrell army.

 

 

Still, it gave them a few extra precious days to stock the castle as much as possible.

 

 

Farmers had flocked into the castle dragging live stock and their families. Arya had to dodge both cow shit and grubby children as she made her way to give Gendry a portion of bacon and a couple of sausages.

 

 

The forge was ridiculously crowded when she arrived. They were short on squires, so the soldiers had to double up or take care of things themselves. This led to chaos as boys and men darted around each other hauling arms full of weapons and finished armor. Huge barrels of sand and chain mail were being rolled every which way.  Arya had to jump out of the way several times to avoid being run over.

 

 

She rounded a pile of armor and ran right into Ned Dayne.

 

 

His eyes lit up when saw her, “Princess Arya! How are you this lovely morning?”

 

 

“Delivering breakfast to Gendry,” she replied holding up a greasy, stained napkin full of the food stolen from the kitchens. “What are you doing out in this mess?”

 

 

“I am squiring for both your brother and Ser Loras!” the young man beamed.

 

 

Arya returned his smile. Robb’s last squire had been a Frey so it was nice to see someone who actually liked their family help him.

 

 

“I am sure you will do fine for both of them,” Arya said.

 

 

“I am just glad I was not chosen to be squire to the Hound or Ser Gerold,” he said with all conviction. “Have you seen them spar? I imagine that is what it looks like when two ill-tempered lizard lions fight!”

 

 

“I would like to see that,” Arya said with a laugh. “Do you know if my brother has been let out of his room yet?”

 

 

Just then one of the smiths yelled out for Dayne to come pick up his items.

 

 

“He was talking with your mother and her council last I saw him,” Dayne replied as he made his way to the smith. “As for the Hound and Darkstar, they are in the training yard.”

 

 

“I’d meant the lizard lions!” Arya called after him.

 

**

 

Gendry was tired and grumpy, but thankful for the food she brought.

 

 

The heat where he worked was stifling, so Arya offered to refill his water skin for him. When she returned one of the assistants had just finished stacking another pile of weapons for him to work on by his anvil. He gave her an apologetic look which made Arya kiss him. She pushed his sweaty hair off his face before heading back out into the fresh air of the court yard.

 

 

With nothing more to do Arya set off to the training yard, curious to see if Clegane could beat the superior attitude out of the Dornishman.

 

 

**

 

Arya found Lyra and Dacey on the sidelines watching the two men spar. Clegane wore his grey armor with his snarling dog’s head helm and was using the biggest two handed sword she had ever seen. Ser Gerold was wearing bright copper colored armor that looked like scales and a light helmet in the same metal. He was fighting with a long curved blade and a round shield.

 

 

The Hound had bulk, strength and speed, but the Dornishman had a same level of skill and was faster in his light armor. In between blows they called out insults to each other;

 

 

“You swing that sword like you’re chopping down every tree on Old Wyk!”

 

 

“Says the man whose skill with a sword is only matched by Varys’ skill with his cock!”

 

 

Arya took a spot next to Dacey. The woman smiled down at her and handed her an apple from the basket behind her.

 

 

“Here to watch the show?” Lyra asked from her sister’s other side.

 

 

Arya took a bite and shrugged. “Everyone else seems busy.”

 

 

“Aye,” Lyra said taking a bite of her own apple. “But you can’t beat this! They’ve been going at it for an hour or so.”

 

 

“So how can you tell who wins?” Arya asked.

 

 

“When one goes in the dirt,” replied Dacey.

 

 

“We’ve been trying to figure out how to get them to fight in just their breeches,” smirked Lyra.

 

 

“We told them that it was the traditional way Northern men spar,” Dacey added.

 

 

Arya laughed. “And what did they say to that?”

 

 

“The one who looks like a dragonlord said it sounded cold and the Hound told us to bugger off.”

 

 

 

“Mores the pity,” Lyra said focusing on the fighters. “I’d still like to see them fight naked. Mayhaps see if the Hound’s big everywhere and if the Dornishman has a black stripe in his hair down south as well!”

 

 

 

They all laughed again.

 

 

That is when Arya noticed that the ring of steel on steel had stopped. She looked up and saw that the Hound and Ser Gerold had stopped sparing. The visors on their helms were open and they were staring right at the women.

 

 

Arya recalled a story she had heard somewhere about a city in Essos where women were not allowed to laugh in public. This was due to the paranoia of the men; they assumed anytime a woman laughed it was directed at them.

 

 

Arya realized how true that was and it made her shake with renewed mirth.

 

 

“Oh gods, what kind of mischief are you three getting up to?” Sansa scolded as she waddled to where they stood.

 

 

The Mormonts greeted her sister with more formality than they had Arya.

 

 

“We are merely talking about cultural differences,” Dacey said simply.

 

 

“You’re wondering about the differences in manly attributes,” Sansa said crossing her arms on top of her belly.

 

 

Arya snickered, the Mormonts remained quiet. Appearing to be reassured by the presence of her sister, Clegane and Ser Gerold returned to their sport.

 

 

“My dear sister, how can you say assume something like that?” Arya asked. “We are all ladies from fine families, why would we have such crass conversations out in public?”

 

 

“Because I know you three and I could hear you all cackling from the moment I stepped out here. “

 

 

Arya tried to look innocent, the Mormonts contrite. Both failed.

  

 

“I’ve been trapped in my room for almost a half a week,” Sansa said. “There is only so much you can think about before your mind drifts to unladylike places. So please do not stop on my account.”

 

 

“So you’ve been set free?” Lyra asked changing the subject while handing Sansa an apple.

 

 

“Yes, thank the gods,” Sansa said polishing the apple with a kerchief she had up the sleeve of her dress.

 

 

Her sister was stuck wearing some of their mother’s clothes from when she had carried Robb during Robert’s Rebellion. Everything was light and flowy in grey and white. Arya thought she looked like a sail full of wind skimming through the castle.

 

 

“Mother made us apologize to each other in front of everyone at breakfast this morning,” Sansa explained before taking a bite of apple. Arya was sad she missed it; she had taken to sleeping through breakfast because of her late night actives. “I think mother needs Robb to be privy to the war council. Small Jon and his scouts have returned with news; the Freys have over come the mud and could be here as early as tomorrow.”

 

 

The Mormonts shifted in their armor. The worst part of this whole mess was the waiting. Half the castle expected the Freys to tuck tail and run from the encroaching Tarly army. The other hoped to stand on the walls and watch Lord Tarly slaughter the Frey’s to man.

 

 

At night Arya would climb up on the roof with Clegane to watch the lights of the approaching forces.  Every night the glow of the Frey army would grow brighter, but even though they were further away, the strip of light that was the Tarly army dominated the horizon. Arya felt like she did when she had first seen the towers of Harrenhal. Even with the towers in sight it still took days to march to the gates; the towers becoming impossibly tall as they got closer.

 

 

 

The sudden blowing of a horn startled Arya out of her thoughts. The people dropped what they were doing and headed to the middle of the courtyard.

 

 

 

Their mother stood on top of a high platform, Great Jon Umber stood behind her.

 

 

“People of the Riverlands and the North,” she announced, trying to extend her voice beyond what was considered proper volume for a lady. “Our scouts have returned and informed us that the Freys army will be here sooner than we believed. As a result we will be lowering the portcullis and drawing up the bridge this very day when the sun is directly overhead. Please make your preparations, for we will not open it again till it is safe to do so. "

 

 

There was general shifting of the crowd and a quiet murmur as the weight of the announcement sank in.

 

 

“Oy!” Greatjon bellowed from behind Queen Catelyn.

 

 

“In order to keep order we will ration food and drink and have put in place safeguards….”

 

 

“I pity the poor bastard who gets the job of laws enforcement,” Lyra whispered to Arya out of the corner of her mouth.

 

 

“Why is that?” Arya whispered back.

 

 

“Because when there is a tense situation they always give someone the duty of enforcing the laws by dishing out punishments for small infractions. As a result they become the most hated and feared person in the castle.”

 

 

“Why is that?”

 

 

“Because if people hate one person, then they shouldn’t hate each other. It also keeps people like your brother from having to deal with every drunken scuffle and argument.”

 

 

Her mother's voice was breaking with the strain of keeping up with the unaccustomed volume; “…. as lord of Winterfell, my son will swing the sword if you are found guilty of murder or rape. All other infractions will be handled by Sandor Clegane.”

 

 

All heads snapped to where Clegane stood behind Sansa, a head taller than most.

 

 

The big man shrugged and announced; “I do not expect much but if you steal, I’ll cut off the hand you do not use to carry a sword. If you fight, you spend a night in the cells. If you annoy me, I’ll hang your ass over the river in a wicker basket to see how far the Frey’s archers can shoot.”

 

 

Queen Catelyn’s mouth was set in a tight lipped straight line at Clegane’s blunt and crude language; although people around Arya seem to be nodding their heads in agreement and commenting on the fairness of the consequences.

 

 

“I expect everyone to act appropriately and we shall weather this as a mere inconvenience before we Notherners return to our home and those hosting us may return to their lands,” her mother finished and everyone dispersed.

 

 

Arya turned to Clegane; “So mother placed you in charge of something? She must be warming up to you!”

 

 

“I got put in charge because Small Jon beat me to breakfast this morning,“ Clegane muttered. “Or else it would be his hairy ass people will be plotting to jump instead of mine. “

 

 

“Besides if your mother knew how many times I calmly dealt with your sister vomiting on me, she would never question my loyalty to your family.”

 

 

Sansa went to swat him for insolence, only to stop when she saw he was still in full armor.


	42. Under Siege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riverrun feels the pressure of being surrounded by enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of RL stuff going on, but I am hopefully going to have this wrapped up by Christmas! Thank you for hanging in there!

The next morning there was a cloud of brown dust on the horizon. By mid afternoon Arya could make out a black mass moving towards the castle. That night the army was so close she could see the individual fires of the camp.

 

 

***

 

Nymeria and Greywind were the first to feel the effects of the siege. With the castle shut up, they could no longer go out to hunt and run with Nymeria’s pack at night.  Arya had considered letting Nymeria out before they pulled up the bridge as she had survived for years on her own, but she selfishly wanted her long lost wolf near.

 

 

Nymeria took to pouting in the form of laying across Arya's bed and shedding. She would then refuse to sleep at her mistress' feet, preferring to slumber on the harth rug in Clegane and Sansa's room.

 

 

The inside of Riverrun grew tense and hushed as people braced for the arrival. That night Arya was dozing on the floor of the forge with Gendry when the first fight broke out.

 

 

She watched in fascination as the men, obviously drunk, rolled around in the dirt. A large group of people soon ringed the brawlers calling out encouragement and taking bets.

 

 

Arya spied the hulking form of Clegane standing a few paces away from the people who had encircled the scuffle.

 

 

Fights were not uncommon in the North and she hoped her goodbrother understood the cultural attitude toward such scraps. It was better to let it entertain everyone then administer punishments after a winner was declared.

 

 

To her relief once one man hit the dirt, people cheered and then both men were dragged off to the cells.

 

**

 

The second day after they drew up the drawbridge, the Frey army started trickling around Riverrrun.

 

 

Arya tried to go up on the roof at dusk and watch them make camp. But the window she usually crawled out of was shuttered and Clegane was waiting for her.

 

 

“Nothing out there for you, girl,” he said arms crossed and hulking over her.

 

 

When he called her _wolf-bitch_ or _she-wolf_ at least there was a level of respect or admittance she was worth holding in contempt. But when he called her _girl_ it made her feel childish and small.

 

 

Arya opened her mouth to tell him to fuck off but was silenced by his heavy hand on her shoulder.

 

 

“And start being more careful with your blacksmith,” he warned her. “Your mother is smart enough to not waste a skilled worker, but that won’t keep her from having me dangle him over the river.”

 

 

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more degrading he turned her around shoved to the hall way saying; “Now, run along.”

 

 

If Arya had Needle she would have poked him just to remind Clegane that she wasn’t some milksop little girl.

 

 

Instead she stood in the hallway and stated; “Sansa says she is having a girl. I hope when your daughter turns ten and six, she runs off with a man _just like you!_ ”

 

 

The look that bloomed on Clegane’s face was worth having to spend the afternoon in the kitchen peeling potatoes.

 

**

 

On the morning of the third day, Arya woke up late and found Sansa shuffling in the hall outside their mother’s room.

 

 

“A raven came this morning,” Sansa said without greeting her. “The Freys have given their terms of our surrender.”

 

 

Arya rubbed the grit out of her eyes, “Oh? And what were they?”

 

 

“What you would imagine; surrender Riverrun, come out weaponless and give up any claims in the Riverlands.”

 

 

Arya shrugged. “It sounds exactly like what we expected.”

 

 

Arya watched her sister fidget for a moment.

 

 

“What else did they say?”

 

 

Sansa let out a shaky breath. “They said if we do not surrender then they will kill Uncle Edmure.”

 

 

Arya bit her lip.

 

 

“And you,” Sansa said looking her in the face. “They demand we Starks leave the Riverlands but you are to stay and marry Elmar Frey.”

 

 

Arya let out a whooping laugh.

 

 

“Did they ask for a pet snark next?” Arya snickered. “Or a chicken that shits gold?”

 

 

Sansa giggled at that.

 

 

Arya regarded her sister; “You look awful, have you’ve been sleeping?”

 

 

“No,” Sansa said bluntly.  “The babe had the hiccups last night and kept me up. Kept Sandor up to, so avoid him if you can, he’s in a horrible mood.”

 

 

***

 

Unfortunately the news of Clegane's bad mood didn't reach everyone and by that afternoon Arya got to see what dangling someone over the walls look like.

 

 

Arya was helping Ned Dayne roll a barrel full of sand and chainmail around the courtyard when they spied Clegane dragging a man up the walls. He was followed by a few of Riverrun's guards. One was carrying a length of rope, another a large woven basket.

 

 

When Clegane got to the top of the wall, he snapped at the man in his raspy voice; "What's your name, boy?"

 

 

"Pate, ser," the man sputtered.

 

 

"I'm no ser," Clegane snarled. "You're a thatcher, right Pate?"

 

 

"Yes se- m'lord,"

 

 

Clegane shook his head and turned to the courtyard.

 

 

"This man was caught sneaking wine," he announced sounding for all the world like he was the one needing wine. "Since we are rationing wine at this time he is to be punished. But he has a useful skill, so instead of losing a hand he will be dangled over the walls for a day and a night."

 

 

"Lord Brynden told me about this," Ned whispered to her. "It's a traditional punishment in Riverrun. A man will be lowered over the walls to dangle over the river in a woven basket with a knife. The prisoner can choose to serve his punishment and be hauled back over the wall when it's done or cut the ropes and take his chances in the river. "

 

 

Arya watched with fascination as Clegane easily lifted the squirming man over the battlements and dropped him in the basket already dangling on the other side of the wall. He nodded at the Riverrun guards and the lowered it down.

 

 

***

 

 

That night after dinner a man-at-arms reported that the Freys had tried to to shoot arrows at the dangling man, but their bows did not have range to make it to the walls. Clegane ordered the guards to haul the man up at first light for helping provide this valuable information.

 

 

***

 

The next morning Arya found Clegane with Obara and Ser Gerold standing on the walls.

 

 

Ser Gerold was looking through a long cylinder.

 

 

“What is that?” Arya asked.

 

 

“It’s device designed by Leonardo of Braavos; you use it see things far away up close,” the Dornishman replied with none of his regular self importance.

 

 

He handed her the device and pointed at one end, “Point it at the people and look through there.”

 

 

Arya pressed her eye to the lens and immediately the men below appeared large in her vision. She jumped a little, then looked again. The view made her feel a little dizzy till she found if she leaned on the wall it would steady her hands.

 

 

She saw men scurrying around, cooking fires, horses and dogs.

 

 

“It’s a shit job,” she heard Clegane say. “I doubt it would hold up under the weight of a few men.”

 

 

“It only needs to hold one,” replied the Dornish knight.

 

 

Arya swiveled her head to find a crude wood structure being erected in front of the castle.

 

 

“What is that?” she asked.

 

 

“It is a gallows, little wolf,” replied Obara not taking her eyes off the army. “They are threatening to hang your uncle before the Tarly army arrives if we do not surrender the castle.”

 

 

***

 

 

“This is suicide,” Greatjon bellowed."I thought the plan was to stay inside the walls till Randyll Tarly butchers the Frey army to a man."

 

 

Arya knew she shouldn't be listening, but Sansa was in bed with a backache and needed information. So she crouched by door to her Mother's solar, ear pressed against the key hole holding her breath.

 

 

“This is Edmure, Lord Umber," she heard her mother reply calmly. "He is Lord Paramount of the Trident and….”

 

 

“According to your daughter, you are,” the big man huffed.

 

 

“And I will stay so till I bend on behalf of the Riverlands and North to the Targaryen Queen," her mother stated. "Then I will abdicate the Riverlands to Edmure and the North to Robb. Ruling is a game for the young, I wish to spend the rest of my life playing with my grandchildren, not the game of thrones.”

 

 

"I don't think they will actually kill him," grumbled Greatjon Umber. "They would be left with nothing then. Without Edmure they have no claim to anything."

 

 

"Unless the little twat managed to bed his wife and put a baby in her," the Blackfish said bitterly.

 

 

“We will need his wife as well then," spoke Robb. "Without her, the claim to Riverrun will fall upon Sansa’s shoulders. “

 

 

“No," her mother said forcefully.  "She wants to go home. I hope that the Freys are not so evil as to murder their own family, but as long as Roslin lives Edmure cannot remarry."

 

 

“I put nothing past them," the Blackfish replied.

 

 

“So what are we going to do?”

 

 

 There was a moment of silence, then Robb spoke up;“If we can get a message to Lord Tarly  and ask him  to send a regiment ahead to distract the Freys from the back, we could charge from the front and grab Edmure. “

 

 

“It might work, but Lord Tarly might not see it that way," spoke Greatjon. "He has more than twice the troops than the Freys, but I doubt he would be interested in sacrificing even a thousand for one man.”

 

 

“The Frey's troops are exhausted," Robb said. "They have been fighting in a war for the past two years, their resources are dwindling. Tarly’s troops are fresh, he is well supplied. If we could get out to the Frey campsite and burn their supplies, they would be easier to ambush.”

 

 

Arya was impressed at her brother's astuteness.

 

 

"That would mean sacrificing people. Sneaking out of Riverrun and then sneaking back without detection is impossible," the Blackfish pointed out. "When we see the Tarly army, we should launch a rescue party. Let us call Walder's bluff.”

 

 

 ***

 

The next morning after breakfast Arya hunted down Clegane in the stables.There was one part of the meeting she had held back from Sansa.

 

 

He was brushing Stranger when she rushed up to him and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could.

 

 

Clegane managed to slam her against the wall behind him as Stranger twisted around to bite her face off.

 

 

"What in the buggering hells is wrong with you?" he snapped.

 

 

“You volunteered!” she yelled at him.

 

 

“I did.”

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

“Because they need me, your brother is leading the charge.”

 

 

“I know! Its a stupid idea! Why would he do that?”

 

 

“Because he’s a young hot head with something to prove.”

 

 

“You’re not young,  you’re not hot headed, What’s your excuse?”

 

 

Arya wouldn't look him in the eye. Everyone knew the mission to get Uncle Edmure would sustain heavy causalities. A fool's errand they called it.  Riverrun did not process enough men to launch a full assault on the Frey army. Even with the army from the Reach fighting the back, the chances of a small group running into the middle of the camp and returning with all members was small. People itching to fight volunteered. Arya could see why The Knight of Flowers, Obara and Ser Gerold wanted to go out. But those who died in a glorious battle, still died.

 

And Arya hadn't taken Sandor Clegane off her list just for him to do something incredibly stupid and get himself killed.

 

 

“You’re having a baby with my sister,” she said accusingly.

 

 

Clegane treated her to one of his ugly smirks; “That’s why I am coming back, she-wolf.”


	43. Under Riverrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long time between updates
> 
> Gahhhhh, the holidays suck. 
> 
> I promise not to rest till the next chapter is done. It's going to be SWEET!
> 
> No beta, some problems. Please let me know if there are somethings that need to be corrected :)

Arya expected Sansa to scream. She expected Sansa to throw things at Clegane, to say hurtful things, to emotionally wrap him around her little finger like she had when they had argued back in the inn all those months ago.

 

 

Instead she wept. Not the blubbery tears she shed in frustration but the long streams that came from a broken heart.

 

 

Sansa asked Arya if she could sleep with her like they had back when they were children in Winterfell.

 

 

She didn’t sneak out that night, instead lay down next to her sister and comforted her by traded stories from home.

 

 

Sansa didn’t speak of anything that happened while she had lived in Kingslanding. But she did laugh at her own ridiculous behavior when she was young in Winterfell. Some stories Arya had never heard and she enjoyed them immensely. Sansa spoke of how she had punched Theon Greyjoy in the nose when he tried to kiss her then blamed his bloody nose on Robb, how she had passed wind during choir practice in the sept and was caught because she blushed too much, how she used to feed her meat to Lady under the table so mother would think she had finished dinner and could go right to eating lemon cakes. Arya felt herself relax with her sister like she had never before. Their opposing personalities melted with the need for distraction from the very serious situation beyond Riverrun’s walls.

 

**

 

After two nights of sharing covers, Sansa broke down and couldn’t stop crying.

 

 

“I almost lost him once and it killed a little part of me inside,” she whispered to her sister. “The day those hunters took him away…. We hadn’t bathed in so long, I just wanted a bath and it was the first time we had come across a deep enough part of the river to get a proper wash. We had made camp there the night before and I begged Sandor to let me stay and bathe after we broke our fast. The water was so cold, it felt like heaven because I was always sweating and nauseous. It was the first time I had gotten completely naked since we left Kingslanding and Sandor was supposed to be keeping a look out, but he kept watching me."

 

 

Sansa let out a shaky breath and continued; “I called him into the water because I needed help and he stripped off his armor and clothes then waded out to me. Next thing I know we’re swimming and splashing each other and he pulled me on my back till I was floating in the water next to him. He was rubbing my belly and kissing me and told me he loved me and how excited he was to meet the babe, then we heard the dogs…..”

 

 

Sansa sniffed loudly and Arya gave her a handkerchief to blow her nose.

 

 

“So Sandor pulled me out of the water and yelled at me to get dressed, we were both sopping wet, and instead of putting on his armor he tossed me onto Strangers back without the saddle then smacked him on the rump. There were two men waiting for us in the trees, but Stranger bit one and I kicked the other when he tried to pull me off.”

 

 

Sansa bit her lip.

 

 

“It was painful riding like that,” Sansa sighed. “When I finally got back to where we had camped, everything was gone. All that was left was turned up mud stamped with dog paw prints and… dog shit. I sat next to the river all night, awaiting his return. I had no food, no water, no protection, just a small fortune in jewels sewn into my clothing that would probably get me killed before I could purchase anything with them.”

 

 

“I felt so empty,” Sansa said. “The worst part was losing him…. When I heard him calling my name in the woods near dawn I ran through the undergrowth screaming till I could wrapped my arms around him.”

 

 

 

Sansa sniffed again, “I don’t want to lose him again. But I can’t even look at him right now, because this time he is choosing to leave.”

 

 

Arya propped herself up on her elbow and wiped a tear from Sansa’s face.

 

 

“But you sent him back for me,” she pointed out.

 

 

Sansa smiled, “Well I knew he would have that under control. He tracked your group to that Inn, camped us a half day ride away and knew how to get in and get out.”

 

 

Arya creased her brow; “Sounds like he knew what he was doing.”

 

 

Sansa smiled and nodded.

 

 

“So what makes you think he doesn’t know what he is doing now?”

 

**

 

Arya found Clegane standing on the walls watching the Frey camp at sunset. She stood next to him for a moment without speaking.

 

 

“I saved your life once,” she finally said.

 

 

Clegane grunted but didn’t take his eyes off the camp. She followed his gaze to the gallows. A figure stood on the platform with a rope around his neck.

 

 

“Back during the fight at the Inn,” she continued. “I jumped on the Tickler before he could have thrown another blade at your neck.”

 

 

Clegane shrugged, “As you say.”

 

 

Arya chewed her lip. Uncle Edmure looked so small and sad from their high vantage.

 

 

“I’ve saved your life twice,” she said quietly.

 

 

Clegane turned to her and scowled; “Oh?”

 

 

“When I told Beric Dondarrion you killed Mycah and put you on trial,” she replied. “If Beric had let you walk away without judgement, the Mad Huntsman would have caught you again and shoved you in a crow cage.”

 

 

Clegane’s scowl deepened as he pulled up his sleeve to show her the shiny healed burn where his shield had caught fire. “Remind me to show my gratitude later,” he snarled.

 

 

“It’s true,” Arya said with all conviction. “The Brotherhood passed the crow cages on our way to the Peach and the archer Anguy had to put the prisoners out of their misery.”

 

 

“I don’t doubt that she-wolf,” Clegane replied. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

 

 

“Because I saved your life, now you owe me.”

 

 

“Where did you get that rubbish idea?”

 

 

“I knew… I saved the life of a Faceless Man and he said that he owed me a life for the ones I saved."

 

 

Clegane looked at her in surprise. “When was this?”

 

 

“When I was captured by Amory Lorch’s men and then in Harrenhal,” she said with all sincerity. “That’s how I helped kill Chiswick.”

 

 

Neither of them said a word for a moment.

 

 

Clegane looked to the sky and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

 

 

"So who do you want me kill?"

 

 

"Cersei and Ilyn Payne," she replied. "So now you can't go out with the charge because in order to repay the debt you have to go to Kingslanding."

 

 

 “After all the shit you put me through to get your revenge for your ginger butcher’s boy and you want me to kill on your order?" he asked bitterly.

 

 

Arya chewed her lip.

 

 

"Yes, but these people deserve to die."

 

 

"Fuck off Arya, I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work anymore than your sister's tears," he snapped at her. Then shook his head and exclaimed, “A Faceless Man?!”

 

 

 

“I watched his face change before my eyes,” she said and held up the Braavosi coin. “He gave me this and told me to go to any Braavosi ship and say Valar Morghulis.”

 

 

“May I see that?” Clegane extended his hand and she dropped it in his palm.

 

 

“Do you know what that bit of Valyrian means, she-wolf?” he asked examining the coin in the dying light.

 

 

“All men must die?”

 

 

“Yes, it’s one of the few things in Valyrian I know,” Clegane said. “You used a Faceless Man and still hated me for the butcher’s boy? You hypocrite.“

 

 

 He fixed her with a look. “I once told your sister that knights are for killing, but a Faceless Man kills more than any five knights even in times of war. They are exactly what the name says, killers with no identity, no family, no land, just harbingers of death for a price.”

 

 

He handed her back the coin. For a moment his fingertips brush against her palm.

 

 

“Do you love your family?” he asked turning out to the sunset.

 

 

“Of course I do!” she snapped.

 

 

“Do you love your home?”

 

 

“You know I do!”

 

 

Sandor Clegane turned to her and put a big hand on her shoulder.

 

 

“What do you want, she-wolf?”

 

 

“For you to never leave my sister,” Arya said chewing the inside of her cheek. “For Robb to pull his head out of his ass and rebuild our home. For mother to be happy again. “ Then quietly she added, “For Gendry to stay with us.”

 

 

“Then drop that coin in the river.”

 

 

Arya looked him then threw the coin as far as she could. They both watched it twinkle as it tumbled down to the water then vanished below the surface.

 

 

“Please, go get Sansa from my room, she isn’t sleeping and your pup kicks me because she knows she’s in the wrong bed.”

 

 

“I am going out with the charge, Arya,” he said flatly. “If you really want to ensure I return, show that poor excuse for a squire they gave me how to clean my armor. ”

 

 

Arya nodded sadly. The poor boy who now squired for Clegane was a former blacksmith lackey from the Riverlands who was absolutely terrified of the Hound. To his credit, Clegane didn’t bellow at him as much as he probably deserved and almost never threatened to hang him over the side of the wall.

 

 

“I will go talk to your sister,” he said walking past her.

 

 

Arya gripped the stone of the wall. She felt completely powerless.

 

 

“If you really want to help everyone, get that fucking beast of yours under control," Clegane called over his shoulder.

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

“Your wolf,” he clearified. Nymeria had taken to wandering the castle at night instead of sleeping in Arya’s bed or on the hearth rug in Clegane and Sansa’s room. “I’m shocked you don’t hear her. She sits in the courtyard howling like a banshee to the wolves out in the woods.”

 

 

“Oh,” Arya said simply.

 

 

Clegane shook his head and took his leave to find Sansa.

 

 

Arya stood on the wall watching her Uncle Edmure sway with the pain of standing for so long. A group of men climbed up on the platform and took him down to hide in the camp as it got dark.

 

 

She chewed the inside of her lip as the sun set and the only lights were the fires of the Frey camp and the far away glow of the Tarly army.

 

 

Outside the walls came a tiny howl, so soft from she wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been completely silent. From behind her came a blood curling reply; the kind of howl that made humans unconsciously move closer to the fire and put their hands on weapons.

 

 

Arya watched more fires bloom in the Frey camp as people attempted to ward of the creatures in the dark. Their fear made her smile.

 

 

Nymeria howled again and every tent in the Frey camp lit up like a Sevenmas tree.

 

 

Robb’s voice floated threw her mind;

 

 

_"The Freys troops are exhausted. They have been fighting in a war for the past two years, their resources are dwindling. Tarly’s troops are fresh, he is well supplied. If we could get out to the Frey campsite and burn their supplies, they would be easier to ambush.”_

 

With so much fire around camp, it would take nothing more that someone kicking over a poorly placed lantern or dropping a torch in some straw.

 

 

But they were so close to the river, any blaze could be put out with little damage if only a handful of men were paying attention.

 

 

Arya wrinkled her brow. What they needed were people who could slip into the camp undetected, set fire to a bunch of places at once and then make everyone too distracted to put out the fires.

 

 

Nymeria howled again and a shiver went up Arya’s spine. Out in the woods came a reply. Ayra's eyes widened as a plan formed in her mind. She walked back to her room deep in thought pausing to sigh in relief when she found her bed empty.

 

**

 

The next day Arya found what she was looking for before lunch. Riverrun was not as big as the Red Keep and she had spent weeks chasing cats through its twisted hallways and damp innards. She had passed by what she needed before, and was glad no one had remembered it existed.

 

**

 

She brought Gendry a hunk of cheese and ham for lunch.

 

 

“I need a favor,” she demanded as she tossed him the sack.

 

 

“Nice to see you to,” he said creasing his brow. “I haven’t seen you in four days and then you come totting in here as bold as brass…”

 

 

She pulled him behind a large stack of wood and stopped his rant with a kiss then messed his hair.

 

 

“I have had my sister to deal with,” she said. “I need you to meet me near the little door behind the stables tonight after dinner.”

 

 

Gendry smiled slyly, “You finally figured out how to get us back to that room with the feather bed?”

 

 

“Mayhaps later,”she whispered then kissed him once more before pushing away and rounding the stack of wood.

 

 

“Remember, after dinner, behind the stables!” she called.

 

 

Gendry waved at her with a hand full of bread as she ran back to the kitchens.

 

**

 

 

Arya found Ned Dayne sitting on a low stool oiling Robb’s mail by the armory.

 

 

He smiled as he saw her approach.

 

 

“Good afternoon, Princess,” he greeted with gusto.

 

 

Arya smirked at his words, but still handed him a sack of ham and cheese.

 

 

“Good afternoon, my lord,” she returned. ‘’I was wondering if you could be so good as to help me with something after dinner?”

 

**

 

Arya begged off dinner with her family by claiming an upset stomach. Clegane watched her under hooded eyes till she vanished out the door.

 

 

She ran to her room, pulled off the dress that her mother made her wear to meals. She pulled on her breeches and tunic before grabbing her dagger and shoving it onto her belt then tip-toed out the door.

 

 

She found Nymeria pacing the courtyard.

 

 

“C’mon,” she hissed at her wolf who looked at her like she was stupid.

 

 

Snorting in frustration Arya pulled a hunk of ham from her pocket and waved it at her wolf.

 

 

Nymeria followed her happily now that she had a mouth full of meat.

 

 

_Can one part of this plan go forward without me having to bribe someone with ham?_

 

Ned was already waiting for her when she arrived. He bowed, but his cheery disposition fled when he heard Gendry behind him snarl, “What is he doing here?”

 

 

Ned looked at Gendry with a hurt expression.

 

 

“I’m the one who talked those knights into bringing you, _and that is how you address me?!”_ Ned growled back.

 

 

Gendry turned to Arya and hissed, “I thought we were sneaking off.”

 

 

“We are,” Arya snapped as she threw her shoulder into the little wood door to jostle it open. “Just going down instead of up. Now stop being such a twat and grab that torch.”

 

**

 

The hole was only a meter and a half wide with large grate hanging over it. Arya never figured out what it was for; perhaps flood control or a drain for the sewers. At high tide it would have been completely underwater, but at low tide it was almost completely exposed. Beyond it the moon shimmered on the river’s surface.

 

 

A huge chain ran from the top of the grate to a wench made almost immovable from time and damp.

 

 

“No!” Gendry protested as soon as he saw the hole. “We are not going outside!”

 

 

Arya snatched the torch from his hand and wedged it in a ring on the wall.

 

 

“Who said it would be us?” she smiled.

 

**

Arya lay panting against the moldy wood as she watched her direwolf swim out the drain and into the river. Her paddling feet were almost soundless and the dark fur on her head made her a shadow upon the water.

 

 

Ned was sitting on the ground trying to catch his breath. The only one who hadn’t found pulling the chain to lift the grate a physically demanding experience was Gendry who just stood behind Arya with his arms crossed.

 

 

“Are you sure about this?” he whispered in her ear. “She might run off again or she might die.”

 

 

Arya shook her head and replied “She’ll survive; she’s done this sort of thing before.”

 

**

 

“She-wolf, wake up.”

 

 

Arya snorted herself awake and realized to her horror that she was curled up next to Gendry on his straw pallet on the floor of the forge.

 

 

Clegane was towering over her, but somehow his voice was still soft.

 

 

“Get up before someone sees you,” he said nudging her with his boot.

 

 

Arya got up and stumbled a little from pure exhaustion. After saying goodbye to Ned, she and Gendry had snuck back into the forge. Unfortunately for Gendry, Arya was exhausted after spending the day running around Rivverun and the night before awake with her mind racing. She had fallen asleep before he could pull her out of her breeches.

 

 

“What time is it?” she mumbled.

 

 

“Sun is almost off the horizon,” Clegane said steadying her. “You should see this.”

 

 

A blast of cold air made her shiver as she left the warm embrace of the forge. Arya squinted in the morning light and wished she was in her bed, indoors, and could sleep till breakfast. Clegane must of known she never made it back to her room as he had the forethought to bring her cloak and dropped it over her shoulders.

 

 

“Come on,” he treated her to a hideous smile and she fell into step with him as he headed to the walls.

 

 

Robb, Grey Wind and her great-uncle Blackfish where already there looking out onto the Frey army when Arya and Clegane joined them.

 

 

Arya looked down to the camp and felt a smile blossom on her face.

 

 

All night she had dreamed of fire and blood, the taste of metal and meat in her mouth, the joy being with her pack again.

 

 

The camp in front of her was in disarray; tents were down, crates upended, supplies torn apart and trash strewn everywhere.

 

 

Some areas were smoking from recently put out fires and there were spots of blood in the dirt big enough to be seen from high on the walls of Riverrun.

 

 

“Gods this explains the racket last night,” huffed great-uncle Blackfish.

 

 

Robb nodded and turned to his sister.

 

 

“Do you know where Nymeria is? Where were you last night?”

 

 

Arya wrapped her cloak tighter to ward of the cold and smiled at her brother.

 

 

“I know what I am doing Robb, don’t worry.”


	44. The Charge of the Rescue Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya helps Clegane prepare for battle. Sansa is caught unprepared.

The day the Tarly army came into view, uncle Edmure disappeared from the gallows.

 

 

That night Arya stayed up till the early hours prepping Clegane’s armor and weapons as his original squire was completely unprepared for the stress. She and Ned Dayne sanded and oiled chain mail, sharpened weapons and polished armor together. Arya was impressed with Ned’s skill with armor. As they worked they traded stories of how they learned their skills and what it was like growing up in the North compared to Dorne.

 

 

The Queen in the North made the decree when possible, the courtyard of Riverrun would be turned into a field hospital so the maesters would not have to leave the castle.

 

 

Gendry had been informed that as a smith his role the next day would be to assist the wounded by cutting them out of their armor. His was so apprehensive he could not give her a straight answer when she asked if he wanted her to visit him that night. Arya desperately wanted to spend time with him; she was worried that after everything calmed down, her mother would actually notice she was sneaking out and with whom. In the end Gendry had been told to go to sleep early and had been invited to drink several pints of ale with the other smiths to help his nerves. 

 

 

After all tasks had been finished, Ned retired for the night. Arya checked on Gendry and found him snoring on his straw pallet. She was too fidgety to go to bed just yet and wandered around the castle.

 

 

Arya avoided Sansa and Clegane’s room; they had retired together early and had requested that dinner be brought to their room.

 

 

Arya found the Mormont sisters having a drink with the other volunteers, but quickly grew bored with the conversation. She resumed her wandering till she came across the window she had used to climb out onto the roof. With a quick look down the hall, she unbolted the shutters and crawled up onto the roof.

 

 

Arya shivered in the cold night air as she observed the dark Frey camp. Gerald Dayne had watched the army everyday with the weird spy glass. He reported that more than a quarter of the tents had been removed and everyday more horses disappeared.  This made Arya smile. Her wolf was destroying the Freys and every night she dreamed of the sweet taste of revenge.

 

 

As Arya shimmied down the roof to her window, a light in the distance caught her eye. At first she thought it was just a reflection of the castle's torches on the river, but then she noticed that the glow was set far back in the trees. It was strange how close it seemed, and how it was in the north west when the other camps where to the north east and south. Her sleep deprived brain screamed at her to go to bed, so she decided she would figure it out in the morning.

 

 

Mentally shrugging she finished her climb and made her way back to her room. She didn’t think she would be able to sleep, but as soon as she lay down her eyes fell shut and she began to dream.

 

 

 

_She was leading her pack away from the camp; the sounds and smells of the large group of humans descending on the area meant it was time to move on._

 

_The smell of fire and cooking meat from the other side of the river was dancing on the wind. She found some of the younger, more foolish of her pack standing on the banks watching the fires hidden in the trees. From where she stood in the cover of the reeds, she could make out the movement of men, their smell was musky and ripe._

 

_She needed to get closer, so she ran into the water and silently swam to the other side. Her pack stayed behind, pacing on the bank and whining in the reeds._

 

_The river was shallow and narrow here, the water calm.  
_

 

_Shaking herself off she crept closer to the camp and spied on the men._

 

 

_There were more of them than she had first thought. They were spread out with few fires and she could tell there were far too many for her pack to ambush. She could see armor and weapons and the men were large and loud. She could smell the same rank stench of apprehension she had smelled in the other camp and it made her hair stand up on the back of her neck._

 

_She could see a cloth dangling from a poll, but her wolf's eyes had a difficult time making out any details, only shapes and the change in values of the paint._

 

_It was an army she realized and fear raced up her spine. She ran back to the river and threw herself into the water. She swam to the other side without stopping and gathered her pack. With great haste she began trotting away from the men, heading north west, from the direction the army had come._

 

“Arya! Get up! You’re going to miss it!”

 

 

Arya swatted at the hand shaking her shoulder. Ned Dayne dodged her flailing arm and laughed at her.

 

 

“Come on, everyone is lining up for the charge!” he said excitedly as he quickly exited her room before anyone would know he had been there.

 

 

Arya rubbed her eyes and struggled to put her boots on. Her mouth felt fuzzy and her eyes burned. As she gained her feet a vision from her dream kept flicking in her mind;

 

 

The cloth the wolf couldn't understand, Arya could. The shapes had been a white sunburst on a black field.

 

 

 ***

 

 

The courtyard was full as everyone readied for the charge.

 

 

Arya waded her way through the throngs of people, dodging horses and heavily armored warriors who couldn’t see her due to her height.

 

 

She spied Stranger easily enough and worked her way towards the big horse.

 

 

Sansa was already there, arms around Clegane even though he was completely covered in armor. She was pressing her cheek to his breastplate, trying to hide her tears.

 

 

Clegane took off one of his gauntlets and placed his bare hand on her belly.

 

 

"I’m coming back little bird,” he reassured her sister.

 

 

“You promise?” Sansa whimpered.

 

 

He took his hand from her stomach and grasped her chin.

 

 

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

 

 

Sansa smiled a little then pressed her face to his breast plate again.

 

 

Arya place a hand on her sister’s shoulder and she let go of her husband.

 

 

"Good thing your brother's squire was up and covering for you this morning, she-wolf," Clegane teased her. "Or else I would have gone into battle naked."

 

 

Not taking the bait Arya snarled back;“No stupid knightly shit, Clegane. No epic sacrifices, no legend worthy actions. Get my stupid Uncle, then get your ass back here.”

 

 

Sandor chuckled at her.

 

 

“As you say, wolf-bitch,” he said then mounted his big horse.

 

 

"I will return," he told Sansa as he steered his horse away to get into position.

 

 

Arya grasped Sansa’s arm and pulled her through the thong of people. As much as she wanted to watch the charge, she knew she should keep Sansa from doing something stupid like running after Cleagne or weeping in front of everyone.

 

 

They settled into the inner sanctum, a room deep within the castle with the rest of the women and children.

 

 

Arya sat Sansa in a padded chair, and then went to find her some water. Her sister thanked her when she returned but placed the mug aside.

 

 

All around them women prayed or spoke quietly. The air was still. The room only had small high windows that were more for light than ventilation. The smell of sweat was becoming close to overwhelming.

 

 

Arya felt exhausted and restless. She almost wish she had some wine. The white sunburst on a black field kept popping into her thoughts.

 

 

Sansa didn’t want to talk, or play cards or walk around the room, so Arya tried to wander off. Great Uncle Blackfish caught her a few meters from the doors and walked her back into the inner sanctum.

 

 

Rejected Arya sat next to Sansa and kicked the wall in frustration.

 

 

“This is bullshit,” she declared.

 

 

Sansa didn’t answer; she just wrung her hands and stared at the wall.

 

 

Arya felt rotten for ignoring her sister’s worry. Her husband was out keeping an eye on their stupid brother, while Gendry was safe behind the castle walls.

 

 

“It’s going to be okay, Sansa,” she tried to sound reassuring and placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “Clegane is a hard man to kill, he’ll be back.”

 

 

“It’s not that,” Sansa said in a small voice. “I mean, it’s partly that…”

 

 

Her sister fixed her with a gaze, her eyes were sharp, but her bottom lip trembled; “Do you know where mother is?”

 

 

“No,” Arya admitted she had assumed their mother would have joined them, but was more than likely with the war council. “I could go ask Great Uncle Blackfish, he’s right outside.”

 

 

“Yes please,” Sansa said primly then chewed her bottom lip and shook.

 

 

“Sansa? What is wrong?”

 

 

“I wet myself this morning,” Sansa said, her cheeks turning red. “I didn’t tell Sandor because he has enough to worry about without…. But I don’t think I _actually_ wet myself because…. The water wouldn’t stop and I thought my bladder was ruined, but it stopped before the charge and now my belly… it feels strange.”

 

 

Arya felt an alarm go off in the back of her mind.

 

 

“What do you mean, _strange_?”

 

 

Sansa shook again. “Please Arya, just go get mother,” she whispered. “I think I’m having the baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are any typos or corrections that need to be made. I was just so excited to post this I might have missed something.


	45. The War Room.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya's revelation makes things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to cut up this chapter because it got too long. The second part will be up by tomorrow.

 

Arya started laughing.

 

 

“No Sansa, you can’t be having the baby,” she said. “You have , what , another few months?”

 

 

Sansa shivered and stared hard at her sister. “You must be jesting or as bad as Sandor is at the marking of time! Arya, how long did Nanny say I was along when we got to the inn?”

 

 

Arya wracked her brain; “Six months?”

 

 

Sansa nodded; “ And how long were we at the inn?”

 

 

“About a month and a half?”

 

 

“How long did it take to get here?”

 

 

“A fortnight?

 

 

“ _And how long have we been here?!”_ Sansa barked out wrapping her arms around herself.

 

 

The truth sunk into her mind and Arya launched herself out of her chair.

 

 

“You can’t be having the baby right now! There’s battle raging out there! Are you out of your fucking mind?"!”

 

 

“I didn’t plan this Arya!” Sansa cried.

 

 

“So what do you want me to do?!”

 

 

“ **Go. Get. Mother**!” Sansa hissed through clinched teeth.

 

 

“I’ll be right back!” she cried before shoving her way to the door.

 

 

***

 

 

Arya slammed open the door and ran out into the hall ignoring the hollering of the guards demanding she return.

 

 

When she made it to the royal chambers she found the solar doors where flanked by guards that crossed their pikes to bar her entrance.

 

 

"You may not enter,” snarled one at her.

 

 

Arya squared her shoulders and attempted to make her voice sound as intimidating as the Hound's;

 

 

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell, you will let me in or my brother will have your heads on a pike when he returns!”

 

 

Neither guard looked impressed. It dawned on her that in her breeches and tunic she looked more like a peasant than a princess. It was the second time in her life Arya wished she was wearing a pretty dress.

 

 

She tried again; “My goodbrother is the Hound and when he finds out you didn’t let me in, he’s going to slit you from chin to balls!”

 

 

The pike men exchanged a look of doubt.

 

 

“Arya!” a voiced bellowed behind her and she turned to see her great uncle huffing and puffing behind her. She must have ran right past him.

 

 

“I told you stay in the inner sanctum!” he admonished as he grabbed her by the shoulder.

 

 

“I need my mother!” she cried trying to squirm out of his grip. “Sansa’s having the baby!”

 

 

For a moment doubt flashed over his face. But then he was ordering the guards aside and dragged her into the room.

 

 

The room was a buzz with activity; squires and messengers fluttering around like moths on a lantern. No one seemed to notice she and her great uncle as they made their way to where her mother sat with the Greatjon hovering over her. The Queen in the North sat behind the great desk examining a large map held down with large carved pieces. Arya saw what looked like a Rose, an Archer, a Tower and a Fish. To the side other pieces lay discarded; a lion, a stag, a man nailed to an X and what appeared to be a sun. She picked up the sun and examined it. Something in the back of her mind was screaming that this was important.

 

 

“Arya!” her mother snapped her back to attention. “What are you doing in here?”

 

 

Great uncle Blackfish shoved her forward. Arya refocused and said; “Sansa needs you, she’s having the baby!”

 

 

Her mother turned pale then she turned to the Greatjon; “Lord Umber please take over for me as I need to attend to this matter.”

 

 

Greatjon Umber nodded with wide eyes. Her mother circumvented the desk and bolted to the door in a swirl of grey and white silk. Arya could hear her screaming for someone to summon the maester as she ran down the hall.

 

 

The solar was quiet for a moment as men shuffled around trying to understand why the Queen had abandoned the war room.  Greatjon grunted loudly and everyone snapped back to work.

 

 

Great uncle Blackfish grabbed Arya’s arm and said; “Come along little wolf, your sister is going to need you.”

 

 

“Wait!” Arya said pulling her arm away and holding up the wooden sun. “I’ll go, but first you have to tell me what this is?”

 

 

Her great uncle sighed and took the piece from her.

 

 

“It’s a marker,” he replied placing it back by the other discarded pieces. “It’s used to show the movement of troops from different houses on the map.” He pointed at the table.

 

 

“Whose house was that?” Arya asked not taking her eyes off the sun.

 

 

“It’s supposed to be the sunburst of House Karstark,” the old man sighed. “But they haven’t been seen since the Red Wedding.”

 

 

“Why not?”

 

 

“Enough questions, Arya,” he said with annoyance creeping into his voice. “You have to leave.”

 

 

“I saw that sunburst on a banner outside last night!” she cried. Her outburst made everyone stop and stare.

 

 

The Greatjon was towering over her a moment later. Arya was a little impressed with herself; the close proximity of huge, towering, meaty men did not intimidate or quell her anymore.

 

 

“Where, girl?” he asked looking down at her. “And how?”

 

 

Arya knew she would not be taken seriously if she said “ I was my wolf in a dream.” So she lied.

 

 

“I went on the roof last night with Ser Gerold’s spy glass and saw a glow on the other side of the castle. I saw a banner through the trees.”

 

 

“Oh?” the big man grumbled. “How did you get Ser Gerold’s spy glass?”

 

 

Arya look up at him incredulously, “I stole it.”

 

 

The Greatjon shook his head but then addressed the Blackfish; “What do you think? Why would Harrion come here and not make himself known?”

 

 

“Because Harrion never rejoined the Karkstarks!” Arya cried with a sudden burst of memory. “He was at Harrenhall with Robett Glover and Roose Bolton sent them to Duskendale! “

 

 

“How the bloody hells do you know that?” The Greatjon asked unbelieving.

 

 

Arya felt her bottom lip tremble. She couldn’t tell him she had been at Harrenhal, she couldn’t tell him she had been Roose Bolton’s cup barer, that she never made herself known or how she had burned the guards to free the Northmen……

 

 

“And why the hell would they be out there?" he continued. "The Karstarks started with 2,000 troops. Gods only know how many they have left…”

 

 

Arya stopped listening; her sister’s words from back on the banks of the Red Fork came back to her;

 

 

_The only way that Stannis could lose was if Tywin came back with a large host. The quickest way to do that was to align yourself with someone who was already ready for battle with a large army….._

 

 

A secret army had won the Battle of the Blackwater.

 

Her mother’s voice followed:

 

 

_We have lost the loyalty of the Karstarks and the Boltons_

 

Arya looked to the map; The Tarly army was drawing the Frey army away from Riverrun so the rescue party could search the camp for Uncle Edmure.

 

 

“They aren’t here to fight the Tarly army!” Arya cried as she realized what was happening. “They’re here to get Robb! They’re here to take the castle! That's is why the Frey's haven't tucked tail and run! The Karstarks have aligned themselves with the Freys because they want vengeance for what he did to them!”

 

 

With all eyes on her she pointed to the map; “I saw the men here,” she pointed to the opposite of the castle from the Frey camp. “They aren’t here to help the Freys against the Tarly army! They knew we would go after Uncle Edmure and they think Robb is still King in the North! They want in; they’re going to take the castle while everyone is focusing on the Tarly army!"

 

 

Everyone was staring at her. “That’s why the Freys made sure we knew they had Uncle Edmure out there! _Family, Duty, Honor!_ They knew if they distracted us and made us send what little troops we had left out into the Frey camp there would be no one here to defend the castle! If they kill Robb and Uncle Edmure, if Roslin is pregnant then that baby is the Lord of Riverrun and Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell. Robb and Edmure are out in the camp, Sansa is in here, if they can get in then... then... then….” She sputtered with the reality of her discovery setting in.

 

 

“We’re fucked,” she finished.

 

 

Great uncle Blackfish was the first to speak; “I will go investigate the little wolf's claims. If there is a group of soldiers moving on the far side, we should be able to see them cross the river.”

 

 

The Greatjon nodded.

 

 

"Take the little wolf to her sister and inform her Grace as to what is happening."

 

 

 

The Blackfish gripped Arya’s elbow pulling her from the room and dragged her down the hall. Behind her she could hear the Greatjon bellow orders and send the squires and scouts scurrying like mice on corn.


	46. The Chambers of the Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gives birth as the battle rages outside Riverrun.

Arya heard Sansa before she saw her.

 

 

“Six hours?!” her sister screeched. “I have six hours of this?!”

 

 

As Arya and the Blackfish entered the inner sanctum they were almost knocked over by the septon making a hasty retreat.

 

 

Once inside they found Sansa leaning on a chair as their mother rubbed the small of her back. The maester was standing before her looking stern.

 

 

 

“At the very least my lady,” he replied. “I will check back with you after midday to see how you are faring, but till then you should take to your chambers and shutter the windows as to not worry the other women.”

 

 

 

“Bugger the other women!” Sansa snarled. “Bugger your treatment and your judgements, you fucking grey rat! If my husband was here he would cut off your useless-”

 

 

 

“Sansa!” their mother snapped. “Calm yourself!”

 

 

 

The Queen in the North took a breath and said softly; “Take a moment to gather yourself and we will go to your room.”

 

 

 

The Blackfish tapped the Queen gently on the shoulder and asked to speak with her privately. Arya rushed to her sister’s side so their mother could go.

 

 

 

“Sansa,”Arya asked because she couldn’t stop herself. “What did the maester say?”

 

 

 

Sansa sniffed back her tears.

 

 

 

“He just looked at me and said I would have six more hours before the baby came!” she whimpered. “And the septon told me I should pray and repent any sins I have because the pain is just going to get worse. He said the pain was my fault because it is what the Mother gives to women so they can atone for their sin of fornication! Then he gave me this and a _look!_ ”

 

 

Sansa pulled her lips back in a snarl and held out a stick as long as two hands breath that was carved crudely in the shape of the Mother.

 

 

 

“He told me to hold this and pray,” she snarled. “That the Mother will give me strength!”

 

 

 

Suddenly their mother was with them and kneeled before Sansa clasping her hands.

 

 

 

“My lovely girl, something has been brought to my attention and I must leave you once you are in your chambers,” the Queen said soothingly. “I promise to return as soon as I can. Do not be afraid.”

 

 

 

She turned towards Arya; “Please help me take your sister to her room.”

 

***

 

They laid Sansa down on her bed and placed a wet rag across her forehead. Their mother told them she loved them before excusing herself and closing the door behind her.

 

 

 

“Please open the windows,” Sansa managed. “I need air, not to be treated like someone with an embarrassing skin disease.”

 

 

Arya threw open the shutters and immediately wished she hadn’t. A blast of hot dusty air hit her in the face. Once her eyes cleared a hellscape greeted her beyond the river.

 

 

 

The dust made by thousands of feet turning up the earth almost obscured the battle. Arya could see the shapes of men moving about, clashing together then vanishing into the filthy air. The smell of blood, shit and dirt invaded her nose and she covered her face in defense.

 

 

She never understood the phrase “tide of war” till she looked down upon the field were the fighting had moved on. The ground was littered with dead and dying men. Where she could see the earth it was black with blood. She could almost make out the scream of the dying horses.

 

 

 

Arya slammed the shutters closed and dropped the bar back into place.

 

 

“What is wrong?” Sansa cried from the bed. Arya spun to see her sister’s large eyes and bloodless face.

 

 

“Nothing!” she instinctively lied, but it did nothing to stop her sister’s blue eyes begin to swim with unshed tears.

 

 

“You saw the fighting, didn’t you?”

 

 

Arya nodded. She crossed to the wash basin where she splashed water onto her face and dried it with a towel that smelled slightly like Clegane.

 

 

She heard a small voice behind her whimper; “How bad is it?”

 

 

Arya rubbed her face and shook her head.

 

 

“I don’t know, Sansa, I’ve never seen a battle before."

 

 

Sansa let out a shaky breath and gripped her idol with both hands.

 

 

“Sansa, Clegane’s been in a battle, so has Robb. Robb has won every battle and he has Greywind with him. He also has Small Jon and Ser Loras and Ser Gerold and that Sand woman from Dorne. And Dacey and Lyra.”

 

 

Sansa nodded then shook with pain.

 

 

“I can’t just sit here Arya,” Sansa said rocking herself out of bed. “The sheets smell like him and I can’t be still knowing he’s outside.”

 

 

Arya grasped her sister’s arm and helped her to her feet. “Okay, lets go for a walk. But only in the hall, we don’t want to anger mother.”

 

 

***

 

Ned Dayne found them pacing the halls. He was dressed in his armor and looked as puffed up as a pigeon.

 

 

“I have volunteered to be your guard Princess Sansa,” he declared. “Let me know how I can be of assistance.”

 

 

Sansa tried to stand up straight as well as she could.

 

 

“Thank you for your service my lord, could you please have the maids bring fresh water to my room?”

 

 

A normal guard would have been offended Sansa had asked of them such a lowly task but Ned smiled and went to find a maid.

 

 

Sansa let out a shaky sigh and turned to her sister;

 

 

“Could you please take me back to my room? Then go down to the courtyard and see if anyone has any news.”

 

 

Arya tucked her sister into bed then slipped out into the castle.

 

** *

 

Arya heard the sound of the invasion before she made it to the courtyard.

 

 

When she burst out into the open space she saw men running back and forth from the walls, carrying arrows, bolts and even large pots of boiling liquid. Up on the walls she could make out the archers firing into the air as one. A cloud of dust had tinged the sky a sickly brown and the smell of fire was everywhere.

 

 

She thought she saw Gendry’s black hair among the men climbing the stairs with caldrons of boiling liquid.

 

 

The air tasted bad. It burned her eyes and choked her lungs. Over the din she heard Greatjon’s booming voice from below the walls.

 

 

An all-encompassing feeling of dread filled her belly and she shivered as prickles of panic filled her veins with ice water.

 

 

The Karstark army was outside and no one knew, no one was going to come and rescue them. Sansa was having her baby as the men in the courtyard boiled oil and braced the gate with huge logs in preparation for a battering ram. It was down to Greatjon Umber, The Blackfish and Ned Dayne to save them.

 

 

Arya watched a man scream then fall from the wall with an arrow in his gut. She braced herself against the wall and vomited up what little she had in her stomach.

 

 

** *

 

 

The castle halls were empty as Arya made her way back to her room. She retrieved Needle and her dagger, testing the edges before securing them to her belt.

 

 

When she rounded the corner to Sansa’s room, Ned Dayne rushed up to her nearly knocking her to the floor.

 

 

“Oh thank the gods you’re back!” he cried. “Your sister has lost her mind!”

 

 

He opened the door to the room and shoved her in.

 

 

Sansa was neatly folding clothes on the bed before placing them into a leather bag. She hummed while she worked, as calm as if nothing was wrong at all.

 

 

Arya moved to her side and tugged on her sister’s dress.

 

 

“Sansa, what are you doing?”

 

 

“Leaving,” her sister said matter-of-factly. “I have taken down the Lannisters, I have escaped the Red Keep, I have trudged through the Riverlands, only to end up here and I’m fucking _done._ I’m not doing this anymore.”

 

 

Arya couldn’t help it, she started laughing.

 

 

“Doing what?”

 

 

“Political subterfuge and physical pain,” she replied as she rolled up some stockings and shoved them into the bag.

 

 

“I am finished with this and therefore I bid you all good day,” Sansa finished before turning to Ned Dayne and requested he go and saddle her horse.

 

 

Ned looked at Arya with pleading eyes. Sansa went to her vanity, sat down and began brushing her hair.

 

 

“What do I do?” Ned whispered.

 

 

“Go find a maester or midwife,” Arya hissed in his ear. “Don’t worry, my sister doesn’t have a horse, but she is having a baby, so _go!”_

 

 

As soon as Ned had slammed the door behind him, Arya turned to where her sister sat before her mirror. She walk up behind her and took the brush from her hand.

 

 

“Let me do this for you, Sansa,” Arya offered as she tried to get the brush through her sister's hair without snagging it on the sweat dampened curls.

 

 

They sat in silence. Arya strained her ears to listen for the cries of dying men and the ruckus of armored boots running down a stone hall.

 

 

Sansa was the first to speak; “I’m sorry, Arya. I apologize for every time I called you “horse face “or wished you weren’t my sister.”

 

 

Her sister caught her eye in the mirror and held her gaze.

 

 

“The butcher’s boy never attacked Joffrey. I should have let Nymeria tear him apart. I am sorry I lied. He didn’t deserve to die. But you shouldn’t blame Sandor, he just did what he was ordered to do.”

 

 

Arya stopped brushing and watched her sister in the mirror.

 

 

“I am sorry I begged father to let us stay in Kingslanding,” Sansa continued. “I…. I told Queen Cersei father planned to take us away.”

 

 

Tears slipped down Sansa's cheeks, but her face was as unemotional and still as a doll’s.

 

 

“I thought for the longest time that it was my fault that everyone died and that I could have made everything right by just speaking to the Queen and Joffrey. But I was wrong. Sandor told me about being informed that the Queen planned to have father arrested as soon as King Robert died for whatever had happened with her brother. I am sorry I never looked for you after father was imprisoned. I am sorry for your wolf….”

 

 

Arya wrapped Sansa’s hair around her fist and closed her fingers tight. At first she could hardly believe her sister could have been so stupid, but then she remembered how vapid her sister had become when Joffrey came into her life. She remembered how Sansa had tried to form everything into a dream or stupid tale. But being a brainless little girl with her head up her ass still didn’t excuse her behavior.

 

 

Sansa had committed horrible, inexcusably stupid actions that resulted in making Arya’s life hell for a time. But a small tickle of pity wormed it’s way under her skin. Sansa had also been beat by grown men, threatened with death, and had been almost raped by a madman. She had lost so much of herself that she had been reduced to fucking the Hound to keep herself alive. Why was she suddenly so repentant?

 

 

Arya watched her sister’s mouth move in the mirror without hearing her words. She saw in the reflection that on the bed behind her lay the statue of the Mother.

 

 

Fury seized her muscles and with a quick motion Arya yanked her sister’s hair so hard Sansa almost fell backwards off the bench.

 

 

 _“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”_ she screamed over her sister’s cry. “I don’t forgive you for anything! Because you’re not going to fucking die so stop asking me to resolve you of the guilt you have! “

 

 

She jerked on her sister’s hair up over her head and Sansa screamed as her body was wracked with pain.

 

 

“Stop acting like you’re going to die! You don’t get to die, Sansa! So I’m not going to forgive you for shit!”

 

 

Arya was about to yank her hair again but a hand stilled her arm.

 

 

“Ah, so we’re at that point huh?” said a dumpy, round woman in a black dress with grey tightly curled hair and a face full of moles and wrinkles. “She asking you to forgive her for fighting with you when you were little?”

 

 

Arya blinked before nodding her head.

 

 

“Well, that’s good, means she’s taking things seriously,” the old woman smiled and began unwrapping Sansa’s hair from her fist.

 

 

Sansa watched the woman in the mirror then exclaimed; “You’re the old witch from the inn outside of Pinkmaiden! Nanny!”

 

 

“Good to see you made it home, princess,” the woman chuckled. “After that nasty business with the Mountain’s men I was worried about you two. I figured that big aurochs of a husband of yours would keep you safe.”

 

 

The witch smoothed Sansa's hair down and gestured to the bed.

 

 

“Now lay down my poppet and let's see how much time you have left.”

 

 

Arya heard someone shuffle in the corner and saw Ned Dayne looking completely unsure of himself.

 

 

“I found her with the women and children in the inner sanctum,” he explained. “I couldn’t find a maester…. They're tending to the archers on the wall and the men who burnt themselves with the boiling oil….”

 

 

Sansa snapped around to him; “Why are there archers on the wall?! Why are they boiling oil?!”

 

 

Arya shoved Ned into a corner and hissed into his ear “Shut up! Face the wall!”

 

 

Ned Dayne hopped to obey. He turned and practically touched the stone with his nose.

 

 

Behind her Arya heard Nanny tell Sansa to take a drink. Arya saw the woman hand Sansa a flask. Her sister took a sip, then a long drink and laid back onto the pillows with a sigh. Nanny lifted her dress and her hands disappeared from view.

 

 

The witch’s face crinkled for a moment, then she sat back and smoothed Sansa’s dress back over her knees.  She went over to the washbasin and cleaned her hands.

 

 

“You’re coming along quit well, princess,” Nanny said with a smile that showed her one yellow tooth. “Not too long now, just relax.”

 

 

“Oh thank you,”  replied Sansa calmly. “But the maester said…”

 

 

“Bah!” spat the witch. “When one of those grey rats drops a child then they can say something, till then they can stick their knowledge where the sun don’t shine! And I don’t mean beyond the Wall!”

 

 

Sansa let out a tiny breath and stared at them with half hooded eyes.

 

 

“What did you give her?” Arya asked.

 

 

Nanny handed her the flask and Arya took a sip. It tasted very sweet and smelled like flowers with something underneath.

 

 

“Just a little something for nerves,” the witch replied as Arya felt a warm, soothing feeling blossom in her belly and climb into her head.

 

 

“It’s made from apples,” the witch said taking a sip. “Well mostly apples.”

 

 

Arya forced her heavy legs to move her to the bed, where she laid down next to her sister.

 

 

“You’ll both be calm for a couple of hours,” the old woman said settling into a chair and pulling some knitting from somewhere in her cloak.

 

 

As Arya let the warm fuzziness close her eyes she heard Ned Dayne call out ;

 

 

“Can I turn around now?”

 

 

**

 

 

“Arya?” a gentle hand was shaking her shoulder.

 

 

She made a noise into the pillow. The pillow was soft, but smelled of Clegane and Sansa. She sat up and looked around the room; for a moment she thought she was back in the inn sharing a bed with her sister and her husband.

 

 

Her mother was leaning over her. She gently rubbed her back and softly said, “It’s time and your sister needs our help.”

 

 

Arya scrambled off the bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

 

 

_How long have I been asleep?_

 

 

The room was dark, but it was due to the windows being shuttered against the world outside. There was a soft light by where Sansa sat upon a chair with a horseshoe shaped seat. She was wearing a long white shift. Her hair was down and damp with sweat. She was grasping the idol of the Mother and breathing very deep. The witch was kneeling below her with her hands under her shift.

 

 

“Girl, what are you doing with that stick?” the witch asked.

 

 

Sansa blew air out her nose like a spent horse and replied; “The septon told me to pray to the Mother and hold this through the pain.”

 

 

The witch chuckled and shook her head; “It’s for your mouth; put it in between your teeth when you feel pain.”

 

 

“Really?”

 

 

“Yes! See, there are teeth marks from other women!” the witch pointed out. She then ducked under Sansa’s shift and called out; “You might want to put it in right now!”

 

 

“What?! Oh gods!” Sansa shoved the stick between her teeth and let out a muffled scream.

 

 

Their mother pulled Arya to Sansa’s side.

 

 

“Hold your sister’s hand,” she instructed.

 

 

Arya gently grasped her sister’s hand as she panted around the stick, tears spilled out of her eyes.

 

 

“Are you alright?” she asked, then felt stupid.

 

 

Sansa groaned before screaming and wringing Arya’s hand so hard she nearly slapped her sister’s hand away.

 

 

Their mother gently rubbed Sansa’s back between her shoulders and whispered in her ear. Sansa took in a deep breath and let out another muffled scream.

 

 

It seemed to go on forever; Arya’s hand thankfully went numb and Sansa was panting like a dog on a hot day. The only one who seemed unphased was their mother who never stopped rubbing Sansa’s shoulders and whispering encouragement into her ear. The air in the room was thick with heat and sweat.

 

 

Just when Arya was sure her sister was going to pass out, she let out one long muffled scream around the stick and blew all the air out of her lungs. Arya looked down to see the front of Sansa’s shift was dark and wet. The floor was covered in blood.

 

 

Arya opened her mouth to scream but was cut off by a keening wail that filled the room. The witch held up a red, slimy, shaking creature that was covered in blood and strange white goop.

 

 

“Once more, my dear,” the witch yelled as she returned to under Sansa’s shift.

 

 

Her sister gave a long moan and collapsed back against the chair breathing very hard. Arya looked at all the blood and felt panic snake up her spine.

 

 

She looked up at her mother.

 

 

“There is too much blood!” she whispered, not wanting to scare Sansa.

 

 

Her mother shook her head.

 

 

“No, that is what childbirth looks like.”

 

 

The witch washed the baby quickly in a basin of water while it howled. Sansa started to come around, she spit the stick out of her mouth and let Arya’s hand go. The witch turned back to them and handed Sansa her less bloody and slimy baby wrapped in a tiny blanket. It continued to howl from its red wrinkly face.

 

 

“A girl,” the old woman declared proudly as she turned back to the basin of water and began washing her sticky hands.

 

 

Sansa couldn’t stop blubbering. As the witch started telling her how to take care of the screaming thing, their mother gently pulled her sister's hair up off the back of her neck.

 

 

Arya thought the baby in her sister’s arms was the weirdest thing she had ever seen. She also thought it was disturbing how much blood was on the floor and on the front of Sansa’s shift but no one else seemed worried.

 

 

The Queen in the North laid a hand on her shoulder breaking her out of her daze.

 

 

“Arya, please go see if Clegane has returned.”

 

 

She looked up at her mother. “How long have I been asleep?”

 

 

Her mother squeezed her shoulder and pulled her away from her sister.

 

 

“We would all be dead if you had not warned us of the Karstarks,” her mother said. “Because of you, we were ready and held the castle till help came. Now go find your goodbrother.”

 

 

Arya felt a hundred feet tall as she strutted out of the stuffy room.

 

 

** *

 

The courtyard was full when Arya returned. Everywhere she looked wounded men lay on the ground. Some moaned, some cried out, some were quiet. She tried not to step in the pools of blood left by those already taken away as she made her way across the stones to where people looked still alive.

 

 

“Princess Arya!”

 

 

She looked around to see Ser Loras striding towards her a few yards away, his shining armor was smeared with grime and dented. He appeared unhurt.

 

 

“What news of your sister?” he asked once he was an arm’s length away.

 

 

“It’s a little girl,” Arya said, willing her exhaustion down enough to smile. “Where is Sandor Clegane?”

 

 

Ser Loras's face fell.

 

 

“I led the charge on the Karstarks,” he replied. “He and Lord Stark were not with me. I have not seen them since I returned.”

 

 

Arya sighed, “My thanks, I will try to find him.”

 

 

Before he could say anything else, she turned back into the crowd.

 

 

As she walked among the people she saw injured men being cut out of their armor by the smiths, treated by the maesters and prayed over by the septons. None were Clegane (or Gendry for that matter) and Arya was thankful her goodbrother wasn’t dying on the stones of the courtyard while her sister held his daughter in one of the towers.

 

 

Soon she found herself in front of the entrance to the castle. The doors were swung open wide and studded with dents and fire marks.  A handful of work men were trying to fix a twist in the metal of the portcullis.

 

 

“They had ladders and carried a big fucking  battering ram over the span between the bridge and draw bridge,” a gruff voice said behind her.

 

 

She turned to her great uncle Blackfish. He had dark circles under his eyes and smelled of fire.

 

 

“We kept them at bay with the archers and boiling oil,” he sighed. “We wouldn’t have had a chance in the seven hells if it had not been for you.” He smiled down at her.

 

 

Arya gave him an exhausted grin. “Have you seen Clegane?”

 

 

Great uncle Blackfish shook his head, “Not everyone has returned, yet. I heard after they grabbed Edmure your brother gave chase to the retreating Freys."

 

 

_Oh for fuck’s sakes._

Her great uncle grasped her arm; "He might be out at the Tarly camp. But you stay here. Do you understand?”

 

 

“Yes,” she replied before walking as if she was going back to the castle, only to double back and slip out the entrance when no one was looking.

 

 

** *

 

The stone of the bridge was smeared with blood and littered with lumps of what could have once been parts of a person. Corpses floated in the river below. Some were trapped in clumps like leaves around the pillions of the bridge. The air tasted metallic and burned her throat. By the time she was on the other side Arya had to tie a rag around her face to keep from gagging on the dust and soot.

 

 

The ground was soft so she had to walk in slow, wide steps as she made her way through the destroyed Frey camp. Tents were stamped into the ground, the equipment was destroyed and scattered over the mud. 

 

The further Arya went from the castle, the messier the ground became. Soon she was ankle deep in a slurry of earth and blood. She found she wasn’t the only person walking about; camp followers were looting the dead, some Silent Sisters wove through the bodies praying and the healers and pike men from the Tarly army made their way around the wounded administering treatment and mercy as needed.

 

 

On the horizon was her destination; the waving banners and tents of the Tarly camp. She could almost make out the sigils when a wounded man reached his hand out and grasped her ankle. Arya kicked at him and lost her footing. She went down onto the slick ground hard and slid a few feet soaking her clothes in the muck. As she placed her hand down to push herself up a flash of color caught her eye.

 

 

It was a small bright spot of pigment painted on the battered armor of a person half buried in the filth of battle.

 

 

Using her hands Arya began removing the trampled mud from around the armor. Slowly an arm was unearthed, then half a chest and a nest of matted hair. Gasping like a drowning man, she began slinging the mud away from the body as fast as she could till what was left of a face came into view. Arya choked back her vomit as she reached out a trembling hand to touch the barely recognizable features.

 

 

Her fear made flesh she let out a long keening howl. The ravens feasting on the dead were interrupted by her wailing and took to the sky in a great unkindness above her head.

 

 

When the Blackfish and Ned Dayne finally found her sometime later, she was still holding the mangled corpse and screaming.

 

 

_"Lyra! Lyra! Lyra! Lyra!"_


	47. Midnight in Riverrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya seeks those she needs to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!!!!

Arya couldn’t remember how she made it back to the castle. She barely remembered her mother’s concerned face. The bath was memorable; she had not had one in ages and the maids scrubbed her raw.

 

When she awoke some hours later in her own bed, she was dressed in a shift with her hair braided. Her breeches where nowhere to be seen.

 

Her window had been unshuttered to let in the cool night air. The moon had risen but the sky was still alight from the fires of the massive army camped less than a mile from Riverrun’s draw bridge.

 

Arya found the simple dress she wore when she snuck out to see Gendry and pulled it over her body. She slipped her boots over her feet and after making sure the hall was empty, slipped out into the night.

 

 

** *

 

 

The courtyard of Riverrun was crowded. The wounded were still laid out on the stones; lords and knights on cots, the lesser folk on patches of straw. The smell turned Arya’s stomach and the moaning of the dying made her eyes burn.

 

She ran to the forge, only to find it empty.

 

“Where is everyone?” she asked one of the interchangeable Pates that worked the fires.

 

“With the wounded,” he said simply before hurrying away with an arm full of wood.

 

Arya leaned against the wall and considered going back to her room when she heard loud voices coming from across the yard. She focused into the dark to see some men stumbling out of the door to the great hall. They laughed and slapped each other on the back before walking around the corner to piss on the wall.

 

Arya trotted to the door and slipped in before they noticed her.

 

** *

 

The fires in the great hearths were slowly burning down. The candles in the massive chandeliers were nothing more than stumps that dripped hot wax onto the floor.

 

Arya squinted into the gloom. She could see clusters of people around kegs of beer. Some were laughing, some silent, a few were alone in the corners.

 

Arya quietly walked between the groups, straining her ears till she heard a familiar voice. Launching herself at the hunched figure by the fire, she burst into tears.

 

“Oh Dacey, I am so sorry!”

 

The woman dropped her mug of ale and wrapped her arms around her. Arya clung to her green tunic and stained the leather bear stitched on the front with tears.

 

Arya felt the crown of her head grow damp as Dacey sobbed into her hair.

 

She didn’t know how long they sat there, holding each other in their shared grief when Gendry found her.

 

“Arya?” he whispered as he shook her arm.

 

Dacey losen her arms from around Arya's waist and peered up at the smith.

 

Gendry looked exhausted. His hands were bandaged and his thick arms were marred by burns and dark smears. His hair was sticking out at all angles. Arya wanted nothing more in that moment than to reach out and smooth it down.

 

“Your brother and the Hound have returned."

 

** *

 

At first Arya didn’t want to leave Dacey alone, but the woman assured her she would be fine.

 

“Oh go tell your big, ugly dog his wife gave him a puppy,” the woman smiled. “I’m going to go honor my sister by seeing if Smalljon's nickname rings true.”

 

Arya smiled through her tears, “She had always wondered about that.”

 

Dacey laughed, “That she did.” The woman squeezed her shoulder and headed in the direction of Smalljon's hulking form.

 

** *

 

Arya found she no longer cared if anyone saw her and held Gendry’s hand all the way to the stables. 

 

They found Sandor and Robb stripping the tack off their mounts still in their battered and bloody armor. 

 

Arya rushed to her goodbrother  as he started slowly rubbing down his big beast of a horse.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked. She was sure he would be more in a rush to see his daughter. 

 

From inside the open visor on his helm Clegane snarled; “Good to see you to, wolf-bitch. Yes I’m alive and not worse for wear, thank you very much.”

 

_Oh gods._

 

“No one told you?!” Arya shrieked.

 

Clegane bent down to rub the horse’s underside. “Told me what? Speak plainly I’ve no patience for games, wolf-bitch.”

 

“Sansa had the baby!”

 

Clegane stood up so fast his armor made a loud clinking noise.

 

“No she didn’t,” he snapped. “She has another couple of months.”

 

Arya threw her hands up in the air and cried out; “Well a babe came out of her this afternoon! I’ve been trying to find you! I even tried to walk the battlefield to the Tarly camp!”

 

Clegane shot out of Stranger’s stall and went down on one knee. “Help me out of my armor,” he demanded.

 

Arya and Gendry descended upon him and began unbuckling and pulling the heavy metal plates off of him like they were shelling the world's biggest crab.

 

Robb approached them with a very disheveled and sleepy Ned Dayne in his wake.

 

“What is going on? Arya, why are you in a dress?” he asked.

 

 

Arya look up from her task and replied, “Sansa had the baby!” Then thought for a second and added, “I’m glad you made it back Robb.”

 

Sandor sat on a hay bale to remove his grieves while Gendry sprinted out of the stable. Ned Dayne began deftly pulling apart Robbs armor.

 

“Your sister birthed a little girl, Your Grace," he announced. “She was named Minisa and has her mother’s red hair!”

 

Clegane was down to his under tunic and breeches when Gendry returned with a bucket of water. Arya gathered his plate and stacked it in the stall next to Stranger. She placed the snarling dog helm on top to reinforce the warning to leave the armor alone. Gendry had told her when he had worked on fixing the hinge on the visor, the Pates of the forge had devised a game were they  dared each other to touch it.

 

Gendry handed Sandor the bucket and the big man dumped it over his sweaty stained clothes. He shook the excess water off soaking Arya.

 

“You really are a big stupid dog,” she snarled trying to wipe her face dry with a soggy sleeve.

 

Clegane treated her to an ugly smile before he turned on his heel and ran out of the stable. Gendry handed Arya a rag to dry her face.

 

He looked like he was going to say something, but then took a step back when Robb approached.  

 

Ignoring her lover’s discomfort Arya shoved her brother.

 

“ _Where were you_?” she cried! “The Karstarks attack us!”

 

Robb stood his ground and caught her arm when she tried to punch him.

 

“I’m sure you two can handle everything from here,” he told Ned and Gendry before dragging Arya out of the stable like she was a petulant child.

 

** *

 

Once they were in the hall, Robb loosened his grip, but still corralled her to walk with him to the family chambers.

 

“The Freys distracted us,” he said. “We were so focused in herding them towards the Tarly army we.....I never looked behind us.”

 

“It wasn’t till Dacey grabbed Edmure that we realized that our retreat was cut off. A handful of us, Clegane, Smalljon and myself included stood our ground at the entrance to the bridge to keep the Freys from driving us all back into the Karstark army. All the while Loras somehow signaled to the Reach soldiers to help us. ”

 

Robb sighed. He looked like he had aged twenty years.

 

“I have fought beside the Umbers, faced the Lannister’s soldiers and I’ve never seen anyone fight like Clegane did today.”

 

He turned to Arya with wide eyes; “Between him and Smalljon, we had a pile of corpses in front of us that blocked anyone on horseback from getting close enough to engage.”

 

“I have no idea how we hurdled it later and drove the Freys back into the Reachmen. We had to leave the bridge, the fight was going out and there was no way we could have fought the retreating Karstarks from the back and the Freys from the front.”

 

Robb dragged his hand down his face. His knuckles were bloody where his gauntlets had burrowed into his gloves.

 

“I have no idea how I ended up out in the middle of the battle, I lost sight of everyone I knew, even the castle for a time….. but Clegane was always there! Even when all I could see was dust, I could make out that dog's head and that yellow saddle blanket!”

 

Robb laughed without mirth then rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

 

He turned to Arya and asked “Will you come with me? I just want to see Sansa's  child then have a hot bath and go to sleep for a week.”

 

Arya smiled and took her brothers hand like she had when she was little girl and explored the Wolfswood with him and Jon.

 

When they reached their sister’s room a strange sound stayed Arya’s hand on the door knob.

 

She turned and strode away, pulling her brother with her down the hall on quiet feet.

 

“Arya? What are you doing?” Robb hissed.

 

“Tomorrow, Robb,” she replied over her shoulder. “You should have a bath and fresh clothes when Sansa presents her daughter to you. It’s only proper.”

 

Robb looked like he was going to protest, but then shook his head and let her lead him to his rooms.

 

** *

 

Arya sat up in bed till her candle burned low. She picked at a loose thread on her quilt in an attempt to distract herself as she sorted out her thoughts. There had been so much death and blood that day. Her hair was matted were Dacey had cried and her fingers ached from Sansa squeezing her hand and were stiff from the urgent working of the buckles and straps from Clegane’s armor. Her stomach rumbled, but she couldn’t bring herself to go to the kitchens.

 

Finally exhausted, Arya rolled over and wrapped her quilt up over her head. The last thought that flashed through her mind was the sound she had heard coming from Sansa’s room. The noise that made her drag Robb away was the sound of The Hound, Sandor Clegane, weeping as he held his newborn child for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and found that my usual amazing proof reading powers are not enhanced by drinking mulled mead. I think I got everything. I appreciate everyone who powered through my delightful mess and still managed to enjoy the chapter.


	48. Meanwhile...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am not dead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have been MIA lately! I have been crazy busy with real life stuff. I am not ignoring you! Especially those following me on tumblr (I seriously get like 30 seconds a day to check tumblr, so thank you for tagging me in stuff!). 
> 
> So, in the midst of all my wacky adventures, my beautifully talented friend, Joanna Stiehl is doing some artwork for my story. Here are some of the preliminary sketches, I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> (She is a tattoo artist in Washington state USA and is slowly building a deviant art page, which I will post when she says it is ready.)


	49. Lord Tarly's Tent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I hope this chapter is not too much of a mess! Like always, point out things needed to be corrected in the comments!  
> Oh and I didn't bother trying to keep Lord Tarly in book character. He is basically The Duke of Wellington from the third season of Blackadder.

 

“Do not speak unless you are directly addressed,” The Hound warned. “Do not look him in the face, do not look at anything in the tent, do not look at anyone that is being addressed…. and don’t breathe too loud, it irritates him!”

 

 

Arya rolled her eyes and groaned. She was exhausted, and yet she had to accompany the Hound to his audience with Lord Tarly.

 

 

Posing as his squire, Arya was to report back to Sansa all that was said. Her sister didn’t trust the battle harden general to be honest or forth coming with women in the room. This was painfully evident by the formal audience with their mother the day before that boiled down to twenty minutes of the boisterous, bald headed man reporting “we won” with very little details. 

 

 

So Sansa had cut Arya’s hair as the baby slept and persuaded Sandor to take her with him.

 

 

Arya huffed as she had to slightly jog to keep up with Sandor’s ground consuming strides.  She had a feeling that Clegane’s mood was less about having to drag her along and more to do with having to be away from Sansa and his daughter. That morning he had been hard pressed to let even their mother hold little Minisa.

 

 

Arya appeared to be the only one not surprised by the Hound's over protectiveness. People didn’t seem to understand how difficult and dangerous Sansa’s pregnancy had been as she had spent most of it on the run. She also surmised that people still didn’t understand that her sister was not only willing, but very much in love with the Hound. Of all the rumors and half-truths that stemmed from the chaos of the Tyrell/Martell takeover of the seven kingdoms, Lady Sansa Stark becoming the Hound’s wife and mother to his child was considered unthinkable.

 

The whispers followed them through the Tarly camp. Not everyone saw the Hound’s loyalty during the battle and the presence of the conspicuous Lannister dog raised questions amongst the ranks.

 

 

Lord Tarly’s tent was the size of an inn and could be seen from the walls of Riverrun. Arya slowed as she became awe struck by the massive portable structure.

 

 

Clegane appeared unimpressed. He ignored the guards at the entrance and shoved his way though the guards stopping only when he came to stand a fair distance before a large wood table covered in maps, reports and markers. Arya nearly ran into his back, but managed to stop in time.

 

 

Arya fell into place behind him as she was instructed. She had learned Clegane always made a point to stand further from a superior than usual so that person did not have to crane their neck to look at him.

 

 

Standing behind the desk was a stout, balding man who some how managed to shout at six people at once. His voice was deep and seemed to be made to be used at maximum volume. He looked up at Clegane and gave a curt nod.

 

 

“CLEGANE! GIVE ME ONE MOMENT!” Lord Tarly proclaimed, not quite done with shouting at his people just yet. “WOULD YOU CARE FOR SOME TEA OR SOME OF THAT SLUDGE THE DORNISH DRINK WITH THE GRIT AT THE BOTTOM?”

 

 

Sandor took a deep breath and replied; “No thank you, my lord. I must not dally, the Queen in the North requires my absence from Riverrun to last no longer than need be.”

 

 

Arya looked at the floor and kept the smirk off her face.

 

 

 _Liar_.

 

 

Her mother had not asked anything of Clegane since Minisa was born.

 

 

“AH,” Lord Tarly shouted to a squire to bring him tea sending the boy scampering as if the Others were biting his backside.

 

 

Lord Tarly cleared his throat and with a show of great control said at a reasonable volume; “Well then, Clegane I will not keep you. First may I say I do not hold the death of King Joffrey against you."

 

The lord crossed his arms and took the measure of the hulking man before him. "I was told Sandor Clegane was a homicidal beast on the battle field, only capable of enough rational thought to differentiate between friend and foe. That you fight with the ferocity and skill of five men with no hesitation or conscience, only answering directly to the people of which you had pledged your loyalty.  I must say I am very happy to know that this was indeed not an exaggeration and that the Young Wolf is alive because of it.”

 

 

Clegane nodded his head once. Arya peered around his legs to watch Lord Tarly. He seemed to be the kind of man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice once he got going.

 

 

“Westeros has the finest army, navy and generals in the world, and what did we have for royalty? A dynasty of Targaryen kings as mad as the sausages from Flea Bottom and a prince made from his uncle’s own sausage.”

 

 

Arya stifled a laugh. Sandor took a step back and stomped on her foot. Lord Tarly didn’t seem to notice, he was regarding the map in front of him in great thought.

 

 

“I never thought I would miss Robert as much as I did the day when I was informed that his son looped off Eddard Stark’s head,” the man said evenly. “Robert was never one for subtly he took care of rebellion in a straight forward manner as he did with Balon Greyjoy. But he would never be so stupid as to behead a major house without giving them able opportunity to fight back.  This business of lies and deceit…. eunuchs and women were able to topple Tywin Lannister… Shows how weak men have become in these times, so the sooner he was dead the better….”

 

 

Lord Tarly looked up at Clegane and smiled. "So as with an infested tree, we must cut out the dead wood, so to speak. First things first, the Iron Born out of the North, eh? It will be a pleasure to have you with us when we take Moat Cailin."

 

 

"And when will that be?" Sandor asked. The burnt side of his face twitched, Arya could tell that marching to Moat Cailin was the last thing Clegane wanted to do.

 

 

"As soon as possible,” replied the lord settling into his chair. “We have received intelligence that the stronghold is garrisoned by a scant amount of soldiers, as Victarion Greyjoy took most of his men with him when he left for the Kingsmoot. What remains is starving and weak. The Crannogmen have cut off any support from the sea and burned their ships in the Fever River.”

 

 

Lord Tarly smiled like a cat who had knocked over a jug of cream. “We are well supplied and have yet only had our taste for battle whetted. I starved out Stannis Baratheon, this should be like taking a bone from a dead dog. We will be over the Neck and take back Winterfell before you know it. You can tell her grace we will be back down South by Sevenmas.”

 

 

“As you say, my lord,” Clegane said with a bow. “I shall await your order.”

 

 

“Good man,” Lord Taryl waved in dismissal before returning to shouting at his subordinates. Arya filed out behind Clegane.

 

 

Behind her she heard; "THIS TEA IS COLD YOU SORRY EXCUSE FOR A HORSE'S ASS!"

 

 

Clegane did not speak nor did he slow down till he reached his horse and climbed on. Arya was barely in the saddle when he put his heels to Stranger and set off at a canter back to Riverrun.

 

 

Arya watched as people on the draw bridge scrambled to get out of his way as Clegane did not slow his pace till he reached the stables. Trotting in after him, Arya saw him strip his horse with fierce efficiency; his face a blank mask, only the twitching at the burned side of his mouth portrayed any distress.

 

 

As he finished, Clegane turned to her and spoke softly, “Let me tell your sister. She needs to hear it from me. If you can, keep your brother away from her till she calms down.”

 

 

Then he was gone.

 

** *

 

Later that evening, Arya made her way to her sister’s room. She was about to announce herself when she heard Sansa’s voice;

 

 

“Sandor I told you, I don’t want you to go. But we both knew this was going to happen and I feel better knowing you are marching with such a large host. And Lord Tarly won’t let Robb go in the vanguard.”

 

 

Arya peaked around the door way and spied Sansa standing over a seated Clegane.

 

 

“Sandor please, I need to feed her,” Sansa said stretching out her arms to the tiny infant Clegane held close to his chest.

 

 

“Give me a few more moments,” Arya heard him rasp.

 

 

Sansa crossed her arms and replied; “You’re more than welcome to change her nappy after she’s had her dinner.”

 

 

Clegane appeared not to hear her. All he did was mutter; “Anything, anything she needs.”

 

** *

 

 

The day the Tarly army set to march, Arya and Sansa stood on the walls of Riverrun and watched the soldiers disappear into the horizon. Robb and Clegane had vanished into the knots of noble lords and generals early on, but Arya could not get Sansa to leave the walls even when Minisa became fussy.

 

 

It took their mother arriving and taking her eldest daughter by the hand to take Sansa’s eyes off the field of troops.

 

 

“My dear child, I was once were you are now and I can reassure you Clegane will return.”

 

 

Sansa watched her mother with an unemotional mask. Arya learned this was Sansa’s way of shutting down the fear and pain gnawing at her from the inside. Clegane had told her it was the only way her sister had survived the abuse in Kingslanding.

 

 

“You know this needs to be done,” the Queen in the North said trying to rouse her daughter from behind her mask. “I promise it will only be for a little while. Lord Tarly has reassured me that he will take Winterfell back so we can go home. Isn’t that what we’ve wanted since we left?”

 

 

Sansa nodded and gently rocked her mewing daughter in her arms.

 

 

“I understand, mother,” her sister replied in a flat tone as unreadable as her face. “This is something that needs to happen in order to make sure there is a seamless transition of power. I will ready myself and my child to be ready as you command.”

 

 

The Queen in the North dropped her daughter’s hand and studied her face. Arya watched in awe as their mothers eyes began to swim with unshed tears.

 

 

“Sansa,” she whispered with a tremor in her voice. “If I could leave you here, I would. But you are the one who assisted these people in their plans, and they want you present. “

 

 

“I understand, Your Grace,” Sansa replied.

 

 

Tears slipped down Catelyn Stark's face. “I am sorry for everything that happened to you, but you will not be alone and helpless this time, I swear it.”

 

 

Then their mother spun on her heel and disappeared down the stairs.

 

 

Arya turned to her sister; “What in the seven hells was that all about?”

 

 

Minisa began to squirm and shriek. Sansa sighed and wrapped the blanket tighter around her daughter. Her mask slipped from her face and her lip trembled.

 

 

“We are going back to Kingslanding!” Sansa blurted out in a high pitch voice.

 

 

Arya shook her head, eyes wide; “The fuck we are! I thought we were going to stay here til Robb takes Winterfell!”

 

 

Sansa shook her head; “Politics and games and power. You heard mother!”

 

 

Her sister looked at her over her increasingly upset child, chewing her lip in a very unladylike way.

 

 

“Two moons to get Uncle Edmure set up as Lord of Riverrun and we go to Kingslanding to await the arrival of the Dragon Queen.”

 

 

Sansa’s face twisted in fury. She growled; “And apparently we will be home for Sevenmas!”

 

 

Minisa started to howl. Sansa spun on her heel and disappeared down the same stairs as their mother.

 

 

Arya stood with her mouth agape and her stomach in knots.

 

 

She wondered if it was too late to try and catch up with Clegane and Robb.


	50. Maegor's Holdfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya contemplates her existence since arriving back in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Long rambling chapter. I feel like if I have readers left at the end of this it will be a miracle! Hang in there!
> 
> Also, check out chapter one for the finished illustration!

Sweat dripped down Arya’s forehead and stung her eyes. She squirmed as the small of her back screamed in agony from the strain of keeping proper posture on a backless cushioned chair. 

 

 

Even in autumn, the heat of King's Landing was oppressive.  The heavy silk dress wasn’t helping.

 

 

"Oh lady Sansa," chirped one of the interchangeable noble women in the sewing circle. "You must recommend a good seamstress in the city. I'm sure you must remember one from your previous stay in the Red Keep!"

 

 

Arya spied Sansa out of the corner of her eye; her sister sat as pale and ridged as a doll.

 

 

As per usual, she only spoke when directly addressed and then replied in short, simple but polite answers; "I fear my lady, my last stay in Red Keep did not afford me opportunities to learn the quality of the local dress makers."

 

 

Arya twisted her face up in disgust as the lady who had spoken suddenly remembered the circumstances of her sister's last stay in the Red Keep. The lady turned from where Sansa sat and began intensely talking to someone on the other side of the sewing circle.

 

 

No one talked to Arya. She couldn’t tell if that bothered her or not.

 

 

***

 

 

Since arriving in King' s Landing, Arya had wanted nothing more but to jump on the first ship to White Harbor and ride out to meet Robb in Winterfell.

 

 

They had been in King's Landing eight months and Arya awoke everyday with a new plan to escape. Walking the halls of the Red Keep was a constant reminder of the slaughter of her family’s men. Everywhere she looked there were memories of Syrio, her father, Jory, even the sight of the cats made her stomach ache and teeth clench.

 

 

Even the arrival of Daenerys Targeryn wasn’t enough to distract Arya’s discomfort. The dragons were impressive, but the Queen let them roam free and they spent most of their time hunting or flying high above the city where Arya could barely see them. 

 

 

If King's Landing was miserable for Arya, it was agonizing for Sansa.

 

 

In the beginning her sister was distracted by the presence of her friends from Dorne; Arianne, Tyene and Nymeria. Arya had been awe struck when she first laid eyes on the Dornish Princess. Arianne was tall, graceful and practically dripped with self-assured sexuality. She wore gowns that were made of a shimmering material that swirled around her like she was gathering light around her body. The jewels she wore on her fingers and arms flashed when she made dramatic gestures giving the impression she was glowing with fire.

 

 

Tyene was pale as Sansa with honey blond hair and a sweet face. She was known to hide poisoned needles in her hair and had the knowledge to kill a man with a kiss.  Arya found herself liking her instantly. Nymeria was dark and moved with the grace of a mischievous house cat. It was hard to imagine her harming anyone with anything more than words, let alone twisting a chain around Tywin Lannister’s neck till he turned blue and his eyes bulged.

 

 

Arya enjoyed their evenings together. They drank honey wine, laughed, gossiped (apparently everyone in Dorne was beautiful and enjoyed the most deviant activities) and cooed over Minisa. They never talked down to Arya, nor judged her for her love of sword play and boyish dress. One particularly drunken night, after Sansa had excused herself to put Minisa to bed, Arya told the Dornish women that she had killed three of the Mountain’s Men. For a moment no one said anything and Arya almost retracted her story till the women raised their glasses in a toast with devilish smiles.

 

 

Arya had never felt as accepted as she did in those evenings she spent lounging with the Princess of Dorne and her cousins.

 

 

But like everything good and comfortable in life, this soon came to an end. After a month, Oberyn Martell was declared well enough to travel and the Dornish returned to Dorne. Arianna left an open invitation for the Stark sisters to visit at anytime. Arya considered leaving with them, but her homesickness for the North and growing hatred for being hot made her stay in King's Landing patiently awaiting word from Robb.

 

 

***

 

 

It had taken the Tarly army better part of six months to cross the Neck and recapture the Stark ancestral homeland.  In Robb’s last letter he had reported on the dire conditions of the castle. The Bastard of Bolton had utterly destroyed their home. The builders that marched from the Reach with the Tarly forces reported that without help from the crown, the expense of rebuilding Winterfell could bankrupt the North.

 

 

Robb also had written that the emissary he had sent to the Island of Skagos reported back that they had indeed found Rickon and were bringing him back.

 

 

Catelyn Stark had gathered her girls to her breast as they all wept with joy.

 

 

A raven arrived sometime later from Clegane reporting to Sansa that he had safely passed the Twins and would be in King's Landing in one moon's turn.

 

 

He had been tasked in escorting the highborn captive Ironborn back to King's Landing.  

 

 

With the Ironborn raiding the coast of the Reach, Lord Tarly wanted to use the captives as bargaining pieces, whereas the Northern lords wanted to execute them to a man. Clegane’s neutrality and fearsome reputation (and drive to get back to his wife and child) made him the ideal candidate to escort the captives to King's Landing. Both the Northmen and those from the Reach agreed the Dragon Queen should pass judgment on the predicament.

 

 

 Arya actually missed Clegane; his brutish humor and directness would have been welcome over the clucking of the hens she found herself surrounded by at the moment.

 

 

***

 

 

With the arrival of the new monarch, the Lords and Ladies of the realm traveled to the capital to pledge their fealty to the Dragon Queen. While in the capital the houses both great and small took the opportunity to entertain one another in hopes of gaining allies.

 

 

For the women, this meant sewing circles and afternoon tea. At night it meant endless dinners with the same boring conversation about how great it was to have the Lannister’s out of power and the wonderful way Queen Daenerys was ruling.  Arya would have been much happier to go and watch the dragons fish out in the bay or the Unsullied train the in the yard.  Or watch Gendry fix a horse shoe or even stare at a stone wall.

 

 

Instead she was made to sit by her sister in a stupid heavy silk dress and listen to the most boring gossip ever uttered, _ever._

 

 

The news of Clegane and Sansa’s marriage was largely ignored or dismissed as a preposterous rumor by most of the major houses. This resulted in many great Ladies with unwed sons visiting their mother. At first Lady Stark had been apprehensive with discussing Sansa’s husband, then disgusted by the lack of decorum or grace exhibited by their guests when learning the rumor was true. One had laughed, one had become disgusted and another told their mother to ask the high septon to set the marriage aside.

 

 

Arya found it amusing; it appeared not everyone had been educated in the finer points of marriage rights according to Rhoynish law. It also meant that their mother would become so distressed by the rudeness of visiting nobles that she would forget Arya was old enough to be considered available for a subtle match.

 

 

Sansa found the exchanges insulting. After the suggestion of annulment, she began to bring Minisa with her to every gathering. Her sister made sure to fawn very loudly over her child then use her as excuse to bow out gracefully.

 

***

 

Arya shifted again in her seat. The women's conversation around her was fading into nothing more than a buzzing sound in the hot still air. Minisa cooed in the bassinet by Sansa's side. Arya wished the little girl would start crying as to give her and Sansa an excuse to leave the room.

 

A clinking of armor distracted Arya. In her heat induced haze for a moment she thought it was Clegane standing by the door. But the figure was a little bit shorter, with sandy hair and blue armor. And female.

 

 

The Maid of Tarth stood with her head held high and back straight; the picture of an attentive and ready solider. Only her glazed over stare and delayed response when addressed showed her disinterest in the activity in the room.

 

 

Arya felt sorry for the large woman; if the rumors of her relationship with Jaime Lannister were true, his death probably still hurt her inside. No one was surprised when the Targaryen Queen had called for execution of her father's killer. Arya and her family had not yet arrived in King's Landing so where not present to see Jaime Lannister being fed to the dragons. Arya still questioned if watching someone being fed to a dragon was something she wished to see. 

 

Upon arrival, she did learn that Cersei Lannister and hung herself in her cell and Ilyn Payne had been executed by the Dornish with the rest of the Lannister prisoners.

 

 

Suddenly finding herself bereft of names, Arya laid in bed at night, staring at the ceiling and wondered about her purpose.

 

 

** *

 

 

From the thick afternoon air came a voice; "My lady Arya..."

 

_Shit._

 

Someone noticed she was there.

 

 

"How are you finding King's Landing?"

 

_Hot, boring, smelly...._

 

 

"Very well," she replied

 

 

_Full of nosy old hens and spies so I can't go and tumble my blacksmith....._

 

 

"Much better than last time," Arya smiled at the lady in the most condescending way she could muster.

 

 

_And full of idiots who couldn't find their ass with a guide._

 

 

The lady seemed caught off guard for a moment. Arya's mother gave her a stern look that screamed "I will deal with you later."

 

Suddenly Minisa let out a wail and Sansa immediately jumped to her feet.

 

"My ladies, would you please excuse me, my child needs tending," Sansa said as she gathered her daughter in her arms.

 

As she left Sansa caught Arya's eye and motioned her to follow.

 

Arya jumped to her feet, made her excuses and ran after her sister.

 

 

***

 

"Really Arya!" Sansa snapped as she walked swiftly down the hall to their rooms.

 

 

Arya rolled her eyes and opened the door for her sister.

 

 

"Don't!" she snarled as she closed the door behind her. "Do not start chastizing me Sansa! It's bad enough after everything I have been through mother expects me sit there in a fucking dress and play the fine little lady!" Arya pulled at the collar of her dress in disgust.

 

 

Minisa began to calm down as Sansa bounced her gently.

 

 

"You think I like it here?!" Sansa hissed with tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "After all I have been through, do you think I want to stay one more second in this festering boil of a city?!"

 

 

Arya began pulling at the laces of her dress in a vain attempt to free herself from the smothering garment. Sansa sniffed, handed her her niece and motioned for her to turn around.

 

 

"I understand you're angry," Sansa whispered as she pulled the laces on Arya's gown free. "You haven't been able to sneak out to see Gendry at night, have you?"

 

 

Arya shook her head and breathed deep as her waist was freed from the tight constricting bodice. On the road, it had been easy to sneak off; the exhaustion of traveling and the darkness of the wilderness acted as the perfect cover. During the day she had slept in the wheel house that carried her mother, sister and niece. But now, Sansa had warned her of spies controlled by the Queen's Master of Whispers. When Arya was first introduced to Lord Varys, his voice stirred something in her memory she couldn't quite nail down. The result was her actually heeding her sister's warning, much to Gendry's annoyance.

 

 

Gendry had found his return to King's Landing much easier than Arya. He was now considered part of Lady Stark's household staff and as such was treated much better than he had as a bastard apprentice. He rewarded with better food, a room to himself and better tools. He was also used to the heat.

 

 

Arya swore to herself when she finally did run away, she would take him with her even if she had to roll him up in a carpet and drag him to the dock.

 

 

Once free of her dress, Arya handed her niece back to Sansa and kicked the heavy garment into a corner.

 

 

Sansa sat down with a sigh, "Could you please loosen the back of my dress?"

 

 

Arya's clumsy fingers worked at the ribbons till Sansa could shrug a breast out of her gown. Her sister sighed again and let her head droop.

 

 

"Could you call my maid?" Sansa let her head roll back. There were dark circles under her eyes. "I need nap."

 

 

Arya nodded. She knew why Sansa was so tired and it had nothing to do with the heat.

 

 

 

 

 

In the early mornings, Arya would sometimes awake to find Sansa gone. Minisa would always be sleepy and content, obviously having been recently fed. Her sister would return around breakfast, freshly scrubbed and exhausted. The rest of the day Sansa would attend to her hosting duties with a mask of indifference on her face. Their mother watched her daughter with a concerned eye; Sansa was growing more somber with every day. The only time Arya ever saw her sister smile for true was when she was alone with her daughter and when she read letters from Clegane.

 

 

One morning Arya out of boredom or concern, decided to figure out where Sansa went at dawn.

 

 

She stayed up all night to make sure she would not miss her sister’s exodus and was not disappointed.

 

 

As the sun’s first rays shown upon Sansa’s bed, she awoke and immediately reached for her child. Minisa nursed, then burped and Sansa changed her nappy with a graceful dexterity. Once the baby had resumed sleep, Arya watched in wonder as her sister changed into a tunic and breeches. Sansa pulled a small sack from under a loose floor board and quietly made her way out of her room.

 

 

Arya kept to the shadows following her sister as she raced down the stairs to a lower level of Maegor’s Holdfast. Briskly walking through twisting and turning halls, Sansa held her head high as she vanished into a seemingly random room. When Arya peaked around the corner she gasped in amazement; one of the walls had swung open like a door. The yawning opening was pitch black. The only sign that Sansa was in the passage was a dot of light from a lantern that bobbing as Sansa descended a flight of stairs before disappearing into the gloom.

 

Arya reached out and felt along the wall as she carefully made her way in the dark. Soon she felt the floor give way to the staircase where she had watched her sister vanish. Cursing her need for a candle, Arya turned back the way she came.

 

Shaking the cobwebs from her hair, Arya stood at the entrance to the tunnel and debated whether to wait for her sister. She briefly wondered how her sister was navigating the tunnels when she saw a smear of pink on her breeches. Carefully, Ayra inspected the tunnel walls as well as she could in the faint morning light.

 

A few feet from the entrance there was an arrow drawn in pink chalk pointing down into the darkness.

 

***

 

In the afternoon heat, Arya helped her sister out of her silk dress and place Minisa in the cradle beside her bed.

 

Sansa yawned and drank from a tepid cup of water.

 

Minisa giggled and fussed. In the time that Clegane had been gone she had started sitting up, rolling over and even started pulling herself around the rug.

 

Arya gently fingered the little girl's red curls. She giggled at her and made some noise that might have been an attempt at speech.

 

"Let me take her while you nap," Arya said suddenly surprising them both. Minisa squirmed and made frustrated noises at the confinement of cradle.

 

Sansa smiled gratefully.

 

"If you wish," she replied. "But first put on something more than just your shift."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all know the drill, please post any corrections needed in the comments :)


	51. The Hallways of the Red Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya discovers some information about her family's new allies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! So busy had to post this in a train station! Enjoy!

Standing in the high gallery of the throne room, Arya and Minisa watched the presentation of houses great and small. The lords and ladies of the seven kingdoms were lining up to speak, grovel and pledge their undying fealty to the Queen with three dragons. One by one they were announced and called forward to stand before the tiny silver woman seated on the Iron Throne.

 

 

Minisa mewed and squeaked from her hip.

 

 

“Look at the people,” Arya whispered to her.

 

 

From the floor a booming voice declared; "… _the Lady of House Vyrwel of Darkdell."_

 

“Hopefully you will never have to see any of these people ever again,” she smiled, and then kissed her niece on her downy head. “And hopefully this will be the last time you will ever have to be in King's Landing….”

 

 

 “Oh you never know,” a voice snidely said behind her.

 

 

Arya turned and came face to face with Olenna Tyrell flanked by her guards, Left and Right.

 

 

“This is the dawn of a new age, Lady Arya,” the old woman smiled. “Mayhaps one day, your little niece or your own daughters will wish to come to the capital and help rule the country.”

 

 

Arya held Minisa closer to her chest. As much as she found herself enjoying the company of the Dornish women, she found the women from the Reach insipid and false with underlying motives she could not quite figure out. She hated them, and Sansa appeared to distrust them.

 

 

“Given the fate of the last Stark that came to King’s Landing to help rule, I doubt my sister would encourage her child to do that,” Arya said in her most even voice. “I have no plans to marry let alone have children, and your new laws give me that option.”

 

 

The old woman chuckled in a way that made Arya wish she had taken her niece to the godswood.

 

 

“My dear girl,” woman said as she gestured down onto the milling people of the court. “What do you see down there?”

 

 

_Puffed up lords and old hens._

 

“The heads of houses great and small,” Arya replied with uncharacteristic restraint.

 

 

“Yes, but look closely,” instructed Lady Tyrell and Arya scooted closer to the railing. “Do you see it?”

 

 

“What?” Arya shrugged.

 

 

“There are quite a bit more ladies than lords down there,” replied the old woman. “When war is declared the heads and heirs of the great houses join the fight out of a sense of duty. Second and third sons follow with hopes of fortune and glory, leaving only the useless green boys and blue beards left to rule.”

 

 

Arya humored the old woman and examined the crowd.

 

 

The voice boomed across the floor again; _Lady Elyana of House Vypren_ …. _Lady Ravella of House Smallwood…. Lady Laila of House Keath…._

 

“The men die, but the women remain,” Lady Olenna said with smug self-satisfaction. “Wars tear up a country not just with fighting, but with the land grabbing mess that follows. Those who kept their lands going while the men killed each other are suddenly stripped of their power and made to be traded like prize stock for their claims. But no longer. Your sister saw the benefits of this way of thinking.”

 

 

“Sansa did what she needed to do to survive,” Arya snapped.

 

 

“And she played her part beautifully,” the old woman smiled. “even with all that unnecessary unpleasantness. That little golden bastard really should not have taken what he did that far, but in the end it was all for the greater good.”

 

 

Arya felt her stomach drop at the old woman’s words.

 

 

“You knew what Joffrey was doing to my sister,” Arya breathed. “You used her when she was at her most vulnerable to get what you wanted; control over your house. Was all that Rhynish law Princess Arianne fed my sister bullshit? Or just a way for you two to get her to do what you wanted?”

 

 

Lady Olenna’s smiled vanished.

 

 

“We took history and conformed it to modern needs,” she said with steel behind her voice.

 

 

“So you read a bunch of stuff other people made up and twisted it to what you wanted,” Arya snarled. “Like you did my sister.”

 

 

“We showed your sister the direction we need her to go, but she chose the path. The Hound was her choice. She needn't had laid with that great brute, we had ways of keeping her safe. She didn’t have to leave either. Stannis never had a chance to breach the walls and the Dornish had always planned on liberating her when they took the Keep.”

 

 

“If she was still alive," Arya hissed. "I've seen her scars, some safety you offered!"

 

 

The Queen of Thrones reached out a caressed Minisa’s cheek. Arya took a step back.

 

 

“I must say that the old adage is true,” Lady Olenna said. “Ugly dogs make cute puppies!” And with that the old woman motioned to her guards and walked away.

 

 

“What is in the tunnels under Maegor's Holdfast?” Arya demanded at her retreating back. _“What did you let Joffrey do to my sister?!”_

 

** *

 

 

Arya did not realize how hard she was gripping her niece till the baby started to wail.

 

 

She stormed out of the galley and was headed back to Maegor’s Holdfast when she found herself face to face with the Master of Whispers.

 

 

“Oh my, such noise from such a tiny creature,” he smiled at her as he folded his hands into the large sleeves of his tunic.

 

 

_His voice, where have I heard him before?_

 

Arya tried to school her face into a mask of unreadable indifference. She began bouncing her niece on her hip to calm her down.

 

 

“What do you want?” she snapped.

 

 

Lord Varys tilted his head and waited till Minisa was quiet to speak.

 

 

“I understand you and the Lady Olenna just had a very… enlightening conversation,” the man said in a soft, nonthreatening voice.

 

 

Arya narrowed her eyes, “She and the Dornish used my sister. They knew what Joffrey was doing and did nothing.”

 

 

“And what would you have them do?” Lord Vary’s replied. “March their army up to the gates to rescue her?”

 

 

“Isn’t that what happened?” Arya snapped.

 

 

“Only because your sister opened the door to them,” the bald man said. “She did what she had to do to survive after your father’s execution, just as you did.”

 

 

“You have no idea what I’ve done,” Arya said coldly, wrapping a hand protectively over her niece as the baby started to squirm. “And **_you,_** you could have helped my sister. You were here; you saw what was happening to her! You knew all along didn’t you?”

 

 

“I did,” he said as he leaned closely. “But I am not the Knight of Flowers, but nor was I Lord Tywin’s man. I did try to help your sister to a certain extent; I informed Lord Tyrion as to her humiliation that day in the throne room. Even her most loyal Hound couldn’t help her that day, but Tyrion did. I never served the Lannisters in any real sense. Like I once told your father, I serve the realm….”

 

 

Arya chewed her lip. She wanted away from this man more than anything. She wanted to run, to hide her niece far away from everyone, to burn down the whole fucking city. The man was still talking, his perfume was choking her.

 

 

“…. Even the finest of jugglers cannot keep a hundred balls in the air forever….”

 

 

Like a hammer, the memory came screaming back to Arya so fast she faltered on her feet. Minisa squeaked and Lord Varys stopped talking.

 

 

“It was **_you_**!” Arya spat and began backing away.

 

 

The bald man stopped speaking.

 

 

“That day,” Arya hissed. “In that hallway by the dragon skulls. You were talking about killing my father with a fat man with a yellow forked beard and rings!”

 

 

A look of shock bloomed across Varys face. If Arya didn’t have an increasingly heavy baby in her arms she would have bolted. Instead she stood her ground and secretly hoped the bald man wouldn’t be stupid enough to have her killed on the spot.

 

 

“Did you do it?” Arya yelled in helpless rage. “Did you convince Joffrey to kill my father?”

 

 

Lord Varys took his hands out of his sleeves and gestured at her to keep her voice down.

 

 

“I was there! I saw!” Arya continued at the same volume. “The Queen said he was going to the Wall, but then Joffrey had Ilyn Payne take his head!”

 

 

“No! _No!_ ” Lord Varys hissed, clearly taken off guard. “If you keep your voice down, I will explain.”

 

 

Arya took another step back. Minisa began to squirm and squawk.

 

 

The Master of Whispers took a deep breath to gather himself and slipped his hands back into his sleeves.

 

 

“I wanted to take your father away from here,” he said softly. “To Essos, to help bring Daenerys Targaryen back home, to take her rightful place. If the Lannister’s thought he was at the Wall they would never question his disappearance. It was someone else who changed Joffery’s mind. The same person your father put his misguided trust in, that set up Lord Tyrion to take the fall for the attempt on your brother life, and attempted to give your sister false hope of escape. He is the one who betrayed your father and convinced Joffrey to take his head.”

 

 

Arya felt her blood boil, if what the bald man said was true, she would have a name again.

 

 

“Who is he?” she breathed.

 

 

Lord Varys sighed as if exhausted. “First, let me tell you the story that you must hear; Six and ten years ago, a pretty young woman came to work serving the Stag King. Now the King took a liking to her and she became pregnant. To keep her away from the Lion Queen the young woman was taken from the castle and given a job in a tavern in the city. When the young woman had  her baby, it was boy with his father’s black hair, but his mother’s big blue eyes. The boy grew up and took to crafting things with such dexterity that a great smith took him as an apprentice. Then one day the wrong people began asking him questions and for his own safety he was sent to the Wall. “

 

 

Lord Varys leaned close again; “Does this sound like anyone with whom you might have become acquainted?”

 

 

Arya blinked several times, her mind slow to comprehend.

 

 

“Storm's End sits bereft of a lord, Lady Ayra,” the bald man said with a half-smile. “The Dragon Queen knows the part your sister played in helping her rise to power. She has been very generous with requests from your mother and sister. Surely she would have no problem granting you a royal boon if it means having a friendly face where before there was only hostility. And as it happens, the new law of the land is very generous where bastards are concerned.”

 

 

Arya felt dizzy. She had to leave, but she still needed one last thing.

 

 

“The name, who was it that betrayed my father?”

 

 

Lord Varys tutted at her; “So singular in your thinking. Very well….”

 

 

He spoke a name that used to mean nothing to Arya, but now meant more than anything.

 

 

** *

 

 

“What would you ask for if you could ask for anything?”

 

 

The cool evening air blew her hair into her face as Arya sat on a bench not too far from where Gendry was hunched over. working on repairing a helmet from one of the Golden Company.

 

 

When she had returned from her walk with Minisa, Sansa had been dancing around her room with joy. A raven had arrived; Clegane’s party was a day’s march from King’s Landing. Arya had handed over her niece and resolved to speak to Clegane before she revealed the new name to her mother and sister.

 

 

“What are you talking about?” Gendry asked, not bothering to look up as he tested the hinge on the piece he was working on.

 

 

“The Queen will grant me one boon,” Arya shouted at him. “I just want to know what you would ask for if she would give you one wish.”

 

 

Gendry thought for a second then replied; “A new hammer, mine’s getting to be uneven.”

 

 

“That’s stupid.”

 

 

“Well, she’s a queen, not a Grumkin!” Gendry snapped as he worked.

 

 

“Wouldn’t you want to have a castle or lots of gold or be a lord?” Arya asked. The words sounded cleverer in her thoughts.

 

 

Gendry scoffed. “No.”

 

 

Arya was taken aback. “Really? Not even all the gold?”

 

 

Gendry turned to her. “Tywin Lannister had a lot of gold, King Robert had this great bloody castle, and Stannis Baratheon was a lord. Look where it got them! Choked by a woman, gored by a boar and fed to a dragon! No thank you. Besides, I like being a smith.”

 

 

Arya chewed her lip. “You’re not helping!”

 

 

Gendry set down his work and walked over to where she sat.

 

 

“Anything?” he asked as he towered over her.

 

 

“Anything,” Arya replied.

 

 

“Fine,” he replied and sat next to her. “I’d like to go to Qohor.”

 

 

Arya wracked her brain for a moment before blurting out; “That place with the black goat god they sacrifice people to? How do you know about that?”

 

 

Gendry gave her an angry look; “I’m not stupid you know. The sellswords and smiths the Dragon Queen brought with her talk about it. They say that the best metal workers in the world are there and they know how to make Valyrian steel!”

 

 

“But, they cut off the hand of the last guy to ask how to make it!” Arya cried. “And he was a maester!”

 

 

Gendry stood up and stomped back to his work bench.

 

 

“You asked!” he spat. “Sorry my wish isn’t what _my lady_ wanted to hear!”

 

 

Arya rolled her eyes and walked away, leaving Gendry to his sulking.

 

 

She had to admit, she was not expecting that.


	52. On the Walls Overlooking the Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor Clegane returns, Arya muses, and a new player arrives in King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So RL has finally calmed down and I can finally start wrapping up loose ends!

The morning of Clegane’s arrival, Sansa climbed onto the roof of Maegor's Holdfast and watched the party slowly make its way to the gates. Arya stood behind her and thought of the time that had passed; in Clegane’s absence, his daughter had learned to sit up, make noises beyond crying and had recently started to roll around on the rugs in her room.

 

 

Arya reflected upon her mother's ordeal during Robert’s Rebellion; alone with a new baby not knowing if her husband would return and what might happen to her if he didn't.  Arya then thought of Jon. She missed him with all her heart, but wondered what it would be like to have Clegane return with a bastard and expect Sansa to care for it.

 

 

Arya shook her head. _Such thoughts will yield nothing but trouble._

 

 

And Clegane had not been gone long enough for that.

 

 

***

 

 

The arrival of Sandor Clegane with the first battalion of Lord Tarly’s army to return south was not met with much fanfare. The group was nothing more than a small number of road weary soldiers escorting prisoners of war to be used as bargaining pieces on a different front of the war.

 

 

The Hound stood out amongst the other mounted knights. From afar he cut an imposing figure astride his big black horse like the Stranger riding out of the seven hells.

 

 

As he came closer, Arya could see his armor was dented and scratched. His great hound’s head helm was missed some teeth off the visor and an ear had snapped off. Most of the knights flanked a large wheel house that had bars on the windows. Behind that rolled a wagon filled with chained prisoners and a small support train after that.

 

 

Even though the lords and ladies found the arrival uneventful, the captain of the Queensguard stood by the two dozen Unsullied and military officials ready to record and escort the prisoners to their cells. A dozen or so people milled around the courtyard to watch, obviously having nothing better to do.

 

 

The captain himself stood not far from Sansa, his armor polished, his white cloak trimmed with gold. Arya had watched the knight trade greetings with Sansa before they both awkwardly turned away from each other.

 

 

Sansa stood apart from the small group of onlookers, officials, and Unsullied, Minisa on her hip. The sun blazed down upon the stone slabs underfoot causing Arya to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet in a desperate attempt to move the stale air around her.

 

 

 The party came to a stop at Clegane's command in the middle of the courtyard.The Unsullied and the captain of the Queensguard stepped forward to welcome the small group.

 

 

Clegane dismounted and removed his helm. He stood a ways from the captain so the knight would not have to crane his neck to look him in the face.

 

 

"Lord Clegane," the knight said flatly.

 

 

"Ser Barriston," Clegane returned.

 

 

Both men regarded each other. Sandor Clegane looked like he wished nothing more than to be away from the man in front of him.

 

 

When they had first arrived, Sansa had spent a significant amount of time pleading a case for her husband in front of the Queen's small council. The old knight had been the source of her sister's strife and Arya disliked him for it.

 

 

"Cersei Lannister dismissed Barriston Selmy from Joffrey's Kingsguard and replaced him with Sandor," Sansa had told her one night when they were alone on the walls enjoying the cool sea air.  "Ser Selmy was so angry he killed the gold cloaks Joffrey sent after him and escaped the castle. Lord Varys sent him overseas to help Queen Daenerys. That's why he is the captain of her Queensguard. When Queen Daenerys returned and started holding council, Ser Barristan wanted Sandor executed for treason as he was the last of Joffrey's Kingsguard unaccounted for."

 

 

Her sister had let out a shaky breath pregnant with the threat of tears. Arya had hugged her sister and wondered later why it had taken a complete upheaval of everything they knew and loved to become friends with her sister at last.

 

 

In the end it was Princess Arianne that helped lay any doubts the Queen might of had about the loyalties of Sandor Clegane to rest. Over wine and Dornish delicacies, the Princess entertained the Queen for Sansa. Arya had been a passive observer that night. Sansa had told Queen Daenerys of how Sandor helped her escape and their love for each other. She had placed Minisa in the Queens arms and spoke of their travels. Arianne reminded the Queen that a member of Joffrey's Kingsguard was still alive; Ser Arys Oakheart was still alive and captive in Dorne with Myrcella.

 

 

The Queen had held Clegane's child in her arms in silence. The little girl with her soft red curls had reached for the Queen's jewels and silver hair. Daenerys had smiled at the girl's giggles then handed her back to her mother.

 

 

To everyone's surprise the Queen closed her eyes and tears spilled down her cheeks.

 

 

"I am not ignorant of how a woman of high birth could fall in love with a man considered nothing more than a blood thirsty savage by others," she had whispered before taking a sip of wine. The Queen then told a tale of her dead husband, a warlord of the Dothraki Sea. There was much wine drunk as she spoke. Arya usually found such tales of love stupid and boring but she sat fascinated by the Queen's story. In the end she was sure she understood more about how Sansa came to love Clegane. But that could also have been the wine making her thoughts fuzzy.

 

 

 The next day the Queen had decreed that she did not believe Sandor Clegane to be a threat and the matter was closed.

 

 

Months later in the courtyard, Ser Barriston robbed of his revenge attempted to stare down the newly made lord who displaced him so long ago.

 

 

Sansa broke the tense moment;  "My dear husband, welcome back to King's landing. Ser Barriston is here at the behest of the Queen to take the prisoners you are transporting under her protection. "

 

 

Then she bounced her daughter up and down making her squawk.

 

 

The knight nodded and Clegane raised a hand to signal the troops.

 

 

Arya watched people let out a collective breath she hadn't realized they were holding.

 

 

The soldiers dismounted and their squires jumped off the supply wagon to assist with the horses. The wheel house was pulled closer to the Unsullied and the prisoners where led off the wagon to be accounted for and taken away.

 

 

 Arya watched Ser Barriston turn to talk with one of the officials and ran up to Clegane.

 

 

"Welcome back," she smiled. "Congratulations on not losing your head before you had a chance to take a bath."

 

 

“Not now, wolf-bitch, I’m not in the mood," he snarled at her as he made his way to the wheel house.

 

 

"I’ve had to spend the last two moons hauling around a squid with the worse personality in the Iron Islands,” he paused. “As you can imagine that is some stiff competition.”

 

 

Clegane unfastened his gorget and pulled out a key on a leather thong. He unlocked the large chain wrapped several times around the handles of the wheel house doors. Arya watched him take a deep breath before swinging the doors wide and climbing into the dark interior.

 

 

From inside the wheel house Arya heard a mad laugh and a woman's voice snarl; “Miss me, pretty boy?"

 

 

Out of the wheel house Clegane pulled a tall woman wrapped in chains with filthy short hair and a wicked smile.

 

 

The woman squinted in the sun light and attempted to ram her elbow into Clegane's exposed neck. The chains on her wrists looked heavy, but she still managed to clear his breast plate before the slack ran out.

 

 

Sansa stared at the woman with wide eyes; “Is that Asha Greyjoy?” she asked, shock making her forget her decorum.

 

 

The woman swiveled her head around at Sansa and whistled; “Damn pretty boy! If I had a piece of ass with titties like that waiting for me, I would have driven us all night to get back as well!”

 

 

Clegane pinned Asha Greyjoy's arms to her side and drug her to the nearest Unsullied.

 

 

 _“Do something with this!”_ he growled.  The soldiers seized Asha and dragged her away as she laughed madly.

 

 

“Still wish to treat with her?” Clegane snapped at his wife.

 

 

Sansa’s face was the color of a sweet Highgarden apple. “No, I admit that I was wrong on judging her worthy.”

 

 

Clegane sighed and reached for his daughter.

 

 

Out of the wheel house came an old man, frail, trembling and muttering to himself.

 

 

“I showed them in,” he babbled. “And I know my name…. he can’t hurt me anymore because I showed them in…..”

 

 

“Who is that?” Arya pointed as the smell of unwashed, putrid flesh invaded her nose like an army of ants. Sansa pulled a kerchief from her sleeve to cover her mouth.

 

 

“Littlebird,” Clegane said turning his back to block his daughter from the man. “That is what is left of Theon Greyjoy.”

 

 

Sansa’s eye went wide, Arya’s jaw dropped. The old man looked at them and smiled with a mouth full of broken teeth.

 

 

“I showed them in…” he mewed. "Theon, my name is Theon."

 

 

“He knew a way into the Dreadfort so we were able to take it from the inside,” Clegane explained. “Apparently Bolton’s bastard had fun letting him escape after he sacked Winterfell then hunted him down.”

 

 

Arya felt her eyes burn. She had hated Theon for what happened with Bran and Rickon, but since Rickon was alive she could only feel sickening pity and horror at the sight of the broken thing in front of her.

 

 

“Your brother wanted to put him down like the lame animal he is," Clegane said. "But the Reachmen want to use him against the Iron Born raiding their shores, as he is technically Balon’s heir.”

 

 

Clegane dropped his voice; “ Bolton’s bastard did unspeakable things to him in the dungeons of the Dreadfort. There is nothing left of him that would be use to anyone. Everyone decided the Queen should rule on his fate."

 

 

Suddenly Theon hobbled his way to Arya and held out a shaky, mutilated hand. Arya reached out and touched his hand. It was thin and knobby, fingers were reduced to stumps and the joints of those left where knurled like tree roots.

 

 

“Arya,” Theon whimpered. “Your name is Arya Stark. You once hit me with a big stick, remember?”

 

 

He smiled and his breath smelled of bile and blood. There were oozing sores on his gums and craters where his teeth once were.

 

 

“I once thought your father would marry me to one of his daughters,” tears began leaking from his eyes and down his sallow cheeks. “I hoped for Sansa because she was so pretty, but always thought you would be more fun. “

 

 

Theon began to shake and mew. He dropped her hand.

 

 

“Forgive me,” he whimpered.

 

 

An Unsullied solider stepped forward and took Theon’s arm in a surprisingly gentle grip then led him away.

 

 

Clegane reached out and touched Arya on her shoulder. “Come wolf-bitch, I need some food that I didn't have to kill this morning."

 

 

** *

 

 

Lunch was a bittersweet affair. Clegane had hastily washed while a meal of chicken, apples and cheese was laid out. Their mother joined them to welcome back her goodson and receive a report from Northern front.

 

 

According to Sandor Clegane by the time the army had reached Moat Calin the Crannogmen had worn down the small amount of Iron Born within. Promises of food and mercy were offered to the remaining occupants. The starving men had killed those who nay said the deal and surrendered. Those considered high born enough for ransomed were imprisoned; those too low were executed by Robb and Great Jon.

 

 

When Arya opened her mouth to point out the hypocrisy, Clegane waved her to silence.

 

 

“Such is war, she-wolf,” he said. Her mother shot him a look, not approving of his pet name for her daughter.

 

 

Clegane wove a tale of long marches, clever infiltration techniques that saved the army from endless sieges, and the justice Robb delivered on behalf of the North.

 

 

“We found Theon Greyjoy in the woods outside the Dreadfort mumbling and weeping,” Clegane said as he held his daughter to his chest. Even though Minisa had tripled in size since the last time he had seen her, the baby was still tiny enough for her father to hold her with one hand.

 

 

“We thought he was a crazy beggar at first,” Clegane continued. “He smelled so bad the scouts who found him had to herd him back to camp using sticks. He kept mumbling about his name being Theon and not “Reek”.

 

 

Clegane shrugged. “I held him down while others doused him in warm water in hopes of washing away the smell so we could take him to Lord Tarly and Robb. He scream and thrashed, I wanted to knock him out, but he is so frail he probably wouldn’t have woken up.”

 

 

“It took some questioning, but we figured out it was Theon,” Clegane sighed. “His sister wept when she saw him. Asha Greyjoy killed six of my men with nothing but a dirk and an axe. She’s fearless, and doesn’t strike me as one who would cry over an old beggar.”

 

 

Arya raised an eyebrow, “So how did you catch her?”

 

 

“Her, I knocked on her ass and punched in the face,” Clegane replied and bounced Minisa on his knee making the baby giggle. “Prying her out of Deepwood Motte was easy; we found Galbart Glover and Maege Mormont with Howland Reed’s men and Lord Glover showed us how to get into his castle.”

 

 

“With the Dreadfort, however, we couldn’t crack its walls and looked as though we would be stuck building siege weapons and sit in the mud till spring if it wasn’t for Theon Greyjoy. He showed us a secret passage Bolton’s bastard used to set prisoner’s free so he could hunt them with his dogs for sport.”

 

 

Clegane held his daughter to his chest; “What we found inside that hell hole was enough for me to tell my men to burn the place into a smoking shell.”

 

 

Sansa covered her mouth in distress, their mother took an audible breath through her nose, Arya chewed her lip. She knew how much Clegane hated fire, to purposefully set something a blaze was not something he would have done without cause.

 

 

“Theon begged Robb to take his head, but Lord Tarly wanted him for a political hostage,” Clegane shook his head. “That is why he is here, Lady Stark. Once Robb secures Rickon back in Winterfell, he will come south to present a case for Theon Greyjoy’s execution.”

 

 

Lady Catelyn took a deep breath and spoke; “I do not want the Iron Born to use what was done to Theon at the hands of the Boltons as a rallying point to unite the Iron Islands against the North. But the Reach is currently under attack….”

 

 

Arya hazarded a look at Clegane and found he wasn’t listening. He was holding his daughter up to his face. The little girl grabbed his nose and squealed. His laughing silenced their mother mid sentence.

 

 

Sansa, sensing a potential argument over decorum stood suddenly.

 

 

“Mother, would you please excuse my husband and I?” Sansa asked. “He has been away fighting for the restoration of the North, I am sure he could use some rest.”

 

 

Lady Stark looked as if she was going to protest, but then nodded.

 

 

** *

 

 

After Sansa and Clegane vanished into their rooms, Arya volunteered to take Clegane’s armor to the smithy for repair.

 

 

Gendry examined the broken teeth and missing ear on Clegane's helm then shook his head.

 

 

“This is going to take me a couple of days,” he said then began listing off the processes he would have to execute to repair the damage. Arya wasn’t paying attention, it had been a long afternoon and promised to be a very boring night. With Sansa and Clegane hiding in their room for the next couple of days, there would be no distraction for her mother. That meant more sewing circles and teas with highborn ladies to discuss possible young men entering Arya’s life.

 

 

“Can I see you tonight?” she blurted out.

 

 

Gendry almost dropped the helm and looked at her with an expression of pure shock. Arya almost laughed.

 

 

“Sure, of course,” he babbled. “I’m done at sun down. Do you know where my room is?”

 

 

Arya smiled at him and nodded. She squeezed his hand then walked back into the castle.

 

** *

 

 

Arya decided to walk the walls near the bay in hopes of cooling off in the breeze from the water. The Master of Whispers words gently echoed in her head.

 

 

_Six and ten years ago, a pretty young woman came to work serving the Stag King… it was a boy with his father’s black hair, but his mother’s big blue eyes…_

 

There was a scheme there she couldn’t quite see. Nothing that came out of the people of King's Landing was completely true, or could be taken at face value.

 

 

 _A royal boon… a friendly face where before there was only hostility_ …..

 

 

Arya wondered who was behind this idea. Was it Lord Varys? The Queen of Thorns? The Dornish? Maybe the Dragon Queen herself?

 

 

_...the new law of the land is very generous where bastards are concerned._

 

 

Arya remembered the night Gendry rode into Riverrun with the knights from the Reach and Dorne. Her mother had questioned Ser Loras about bastards and Dornish law. Was this the plan all along? How could they possible know she would be involved?

 

 

_If the Lannisters thought he was at the Wall they would never question his disappearance…._

 

 

Unless she wasn’t part of it in the beginning. But why would they need her now? Surely the head of the Tyrell family would have more sway to ask a boon then her….

 

 

_Storm's End sits bereft of a lord…._

 

 

Oh.

 

Arya almost faltered. That was it. She felt stupid for not seeing it before; it wasn’t just Gendry legitimization they wanted, it was her birth status as well.

 

 

Lord and Lady of the Storm Lands.

 

 

_It would mean mother couldn’t stick me with one of those highborn assholes that have been sniffing around Sansa lately._

 

 

Arya snorted out a laugh. She decided she couldn’t wait to see the first suitor approach Sansa with some sort of ridiculous act of courtship only to run right into Sandor Clegane.

 

 

Arya had turned her eyes to the horizon in hopes of catching a glimpse of a dragon fishing out on the water when she tripped over a small person hiding in the shadow of a turret.

 

 

“Oh bloody hells!” Arya exclaimed as she regained her balance. “I am so sorry! I didn’t see you sitting there!”

 

 

The small person turned out to be a young boy, possibly around Bran’s age. He had long brown hair and his pale, thin face had dark circles under his eyes. His lips were pink as if he had chewed them raw. There were tears in his eyes.

 

 

Arya would have guessed he was a starving street rat if it wasn’t for his fine clothes.

 

 

“Shhhhhh!!!!” he hissed with a finger to his lips. “If you don’t be quiet, they’ll find me!”

 

 

Arya studied him for a second and it all became clear; he was hiding from his keeper, a septa perhaps or maester. Arya had done it enough herself, but the poor boy looked like she imagined she had when she hid from the Queen’s troops after Nymeria attacked Joffrey so long ago.

 

 

“Are you alright?” Arya whispered. “This isn’t a very good hiding place.”

 

 

 _“SSSSHHHHH!!!”_ the boy hissed so hard spittle flew from his mouth. “If they find me, _I will make you fly!”_

 

“What?” she asked, but received no explanation as suddenly a female voice called out behind her.

 

 

_“Lord Robert! Come here this instant!”_

 

 

The little boy froze like a rabbit confronted by a fox. He began to sob.

 

 

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t let her find me! He wants to send me away! He’s waiting for me to die so he can take my father’s castle! I know he is! That’s why my mother flew out the moon door!”

 

 

Arya felt a sudden need to help the boy. He looked like beaten dog.

 

 

She held out her hand; “C’mon, I know where to hide.”

 

 

The boy placed his clammy hand into hers and she pulled him to his feet.

 

 

Arya tried to pull him along, but he was a weak runner and had to stop for breath after only a few meters.

 

 

_He’s doomed._

 

 

The septa was on them before he caught his wind.

 

 

“Lord Robert!” the woman scolded causing the boy to mew. “How dare you run off like that! The Lord Protector has been worried sick!”

 

 

“No he hasn’t!” shrieked the little boy. “He and Harry just want my father's castle!"

 

 

“What have I told you!” she scolded. “You are never to say anything like that again about your step-father!”

 

 

The septa looked up at Arya. Not for the first time in her life did she wish she was wearing a dress. She had changed out of her heavy silk gown into a light linen shirt and breeches to go to the smithy with Clegane’s armor. The septa looked particularly stringent and Arya hoped she took her for a page or squire.

 

 

“Thank you for helping in the search, dear….” The woman gave her a once over again. Arya prepared herself for an awkward conversation, but the woman shook her head as if to clear away any contradictory thoughts. “Boy, my dear boy, for finding the wayward Lord Robert of the Vale.”

 

 

Arya knew that name, but she had met so many people since she arrived she could not place it.

 

 

“The Lord Protector will reward you for your assistance,” the septa continued. “We have just arrived in the Keep, but if you wish to collect just ask for the chambers of Petyr Baelish, Lord Protector of the Vale.”

 

 

Arya froze to the spot. Cold water ran through her veins making her body tingle.

 

 

The septa said some farewell and pulled Lord Robert with her. The little boy turned over his shoulder and gave Arya such a forlorn look that she had no doubt he was in danger.

 

 

She turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could back to Maegor’s Holdfast.

 

** *

 

 

Clegane was dozing on one of the large couches in her mother's solar when Arya burst into the room breathless and dripping sweat.

 

 

Upon spying his sleeping form she ran up to his side and reached out to shake his shoulder. Clegane was instantly awake and grasped her wrist before she could touch him.

 

 

He put his other hand to his mouth to signal her to be silent before pointing to Minisa. His daughter lay curled up on his chest, thumb in her mouth and rear in the air.

 

 

 _“Littlefinger is in the Red Keep!”_ Arya hissed between clinched teeth.

 

 

She watched the Hound’s eyes grow wide with shock, then narrow fury.


	53. Listening Down the Hall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets and lies.

“Please, repeat what you just said,” the Hound hissed.

 

 

“Petyr Baelish is in the Red Keep!” Arya repeated a little too loud causing Minisa to open her eyes and express her disapproval.

 

 

Sandor Clegane was on his feet in an instant cradling the little girl to his chest. As he hushed the fussy baby he motioned for Arya to follow him down the hall into the room he shared with Sansa.

 

 

“What are we going to do?!” Arya blurted out louder than she meant.

 

 

The Hound whirled on her and snarled; “What do you mean “we”, wolf-bitch?”

 

 

He laid the baby in her cradle. “I am going to get my armor and my sword. Then I’m going find that mustached little shit, and leave him broken and bleeding somewhere no one will ever find his body.”

 

 

He jabbed a finger into her chest. “You are going to go get your little pig sticker of a sword and sit here with Minisa till I get back.”

 

 

“That’s not fair!” Arya cried out and stomped her foot. “Petyr Baelish convinced Joffrey to cut off my father’s head! What did he ever do to you?”

 

 

The Hound’s face became hideous with fury; “After I saved your sister from the mob during the riots, he got his puppet,  _Ser_ Dontos to lie to her about something I didn’t do to turn her against me."

 

 

Sandor Clegane took a breath and set the cradle to gently rock. His daughter calmed down and closed her big grey eyes.

 

 

“I have no idea how much Littlefinger knows about your sister and I. I doubt Dontos was smart enough to catch on, we were very careful and he left for the Vale long before I got her with child... “ He fixed Arya with a look.

 

 

Arya chewed her lip; “What did Dontos say?”

 

 

Sandor Clegane sat on the edge of the bed he shared with her sister and put his head in his hands. He spoke softly as to not disturb the baby;

 

 

“After Robert took the throne, Jon Arryn told him to get Jaime Lannister out of King's Landing. Apparently not everyone was happy with him stabbing King Aerys in the back.  So Tywin sent him on convalescent leave to Casterly Rock. I was assigned to be Cersei’s dog in his absence. Pretty bloody brilliant of Tywin really, have the brother of the man who slaughtered the last queen guard the soon to be new queen to remind everyone of how Lannister’s pay their debts.”

 

 

Clegane sat up and dropped his voice to the point Arya had to creep closer. She almost reminded him that Minisa couldn’t understand what he said so he would speak up.

 

 

“Somehow, while the Kingslayer was in Casterly Rock, his brother, the Imp, married a whore. I have no idea how it started, some say the Imp was done with her, some say his father did it, but what is true is that the little wife was given to the Lannister soldiers for fun.”

 

 

Arya’s jaw dropped. She had believed herself unshakable after Harrenhal, but apparently there still were things that could turn her stomach.

 

 

“Dontos told your sister that I participated,” Clegane snarled under his breath. “He knew better, because he was here in King’s Landing after the war and saw me trailing after Cersei.”

 

 

“How did you not kill Dontos before you left?” Arya asked at regular volume making Minisa become fussy once again.

 

 

Sandor Clegane gave her a murderous look as he scooped up his daughter and bounced her in his arms till she settled.

 

 

“Your sister did not tell me what he had told her till we left King’s Landing and he was long dead,“ he replied.  “But Dontos couldn’t piss without wetting the front of breeches, so I do not believe he came up with that story by himself. Once your sister explained to me she believed Dontos to be Littlefinger’s crony it all made sense. Littlefinger wanted to get your sister out of King's Landing himself and having her turn on me would make her desperate enough to go with that waste of skin Dontos.”

 

 

Arya shook her head in disbelief. Things had been horrifying on the road, at least they had been simple.

 

 

Suddenly the soft sound of a door closing echoed down the hall. Sandor and Arya froze. Setting Minisa back into her cradle, Clegane moved to the door and opened it a crack. Arya shoved her way underneath him pressed her face to the gap.

 

 

“… I still cannot believe it, she would never leave poor Robin alone in this world. The boy was her life,” said Lady Stark.

 

 

“I know it is hard to comprehend, Cat," said an man's gentle voice colored with a repressed accent. "But she was frail and there was no way she could have fought off that vile musician. My biggest regret was that I was too occupied with my new duties to be there to save her.”

 

 

Lady Stark sat down on the couch Clegane had vacated moments before and a thin man with a pointed beard sat beside her.

 

 

Arya looked up into her goodbrother’s face to see him clinching his teeth.

 

 

She tugged on his tunic then whispered; "Is that him?"

 

 

Clegane looked down at her, nodded and put a finger to his lips.

 

 

Petyr Baelish was in the next room and neither she nor the Hound had so much as a steak knife between them.

 

 

_If it comes to it, Clegane could just strangle him till his eyes popped out._

 

 

The idea had it's appeal.

 

 

But Arya knew her mother; without evidence of Littlefinger's treachery she would be hard pressed to let her goodson break someone's neck.

 

 

“First my husband is murdered, then my sister," her mother sobbed. "My children face enemies at every turn….. I greatly fear for the safety of my family Peytr.”

 

 

“I understand, Cat," the man placed his hand on her shoulder. "I myself have lost my lady wife too soon after we finally were able to wed. “

 

 

“And her boy Robin?”

 

 

“He is well, I have brought him to the capital to meet the Dragon Queen. The Vale lords have rallied behind him and support me as Lord Protector. “

 

 

“I am glad to hear of your success, Petyr. You have come a long way from that boy in Riverrun who used to play Jenny of Oldstones with Lysa and I.”

 

 

“Cat, I am truly sorry for your loss. But we are living in the start of new age, perhaps we should join our two houses, for the good of the kingdom.”

 

 

“Petyr, my eldest is already wed and I have given Arya the freedom to chose her husband.”

 

 

“Oh yes, I have heard a very troublesome rumor about Sansa being married to the Hound. “

 

 

“Yes, this is true.”

 

 

“I must say, this match worries me. Surly you know that the Hound was present for Lord Stark’s arrest and killed quite a few members of your household in the resulting slaughter.”

 

 

Arya looked up to Clegane and watched the burnt side of his face twitch. She didn’t have to see to know the vein on his temple was throbbing.

 

 

“I understand he was under orders from the Lannisters, but he has given me ample reason to believe he is completely loyal to Robb and loves my daughter wholeheartedly.”

 

 

“His presence still gives me pause, Cat. While I was Master of Coin I witnessed the nature of the Hound many times. For young Sansa to be at the mercy of such a brutal and base man is concerning. They say he turned coward and stole her away during the Battle of the Blackwater. How can you be certain of a man with such questionable loyalties?”

 

 

Arya could hear the wood of the door groan as Clegane gripped it tight in his huge hands.

 

 

Lady Stark sat straight and turned to face the man next to her; “I have a question for you Petyr.”

 

 

The man was either too stupid to notice the change in Arya's mother or was clever enough to feign ignorance.

 

 

“When my dear Lord husband stood before the Iron Throne and presented the last wishes of his king, where were you?”

 

 

Not changing his demeanor or tone Baelish replied, “I assure you Cat, if I could have done anything to help Lord Stark, I would have. But I am but one man.“

 

 

“A man who was in charge of the City Watch.," retorted Lady Stark. "The same soldiers who went into the throne room to support my husband and came out leading him in chains."

 

 

“It was the Queen who ordered Lord Stark arrested, Cat. I swear to you that….”

 

 

“You swear what, Petyr?"Lady Stark said, her tone's evenness faltering. "You told me Tyrion Lannister was the owner of the dagger I wrestled away from a man who tried to kill my son as he laid helpless! You gave me reason to take Lord Tyrion captive and as a result my husband was attacked by Jaime Lannister! “

 

 

Littlefinger's voice remained calm, even soothing; “Cat, I was there when the Kingslayer confronted Ned, there was nothing I could do!”

 

 

“But you could have agreed to send Ned to the Wall! Instead you have Joffrey cause to have Ilyn Payne take his head!” Lady Stark accused.

 

 

“Cat…. You know me….how could I possibly….”

 

 

“Sandor Clegane told me you betrayed Ned that day in throne room. I later pressed him for details and like the loyal goodson he is, told me all you did!”

 

 

Arya looked up to Cleganes face. He nodded down to her and whispered, “Before the charge.”

 

 

“How could you possibly believe that turncoat over me Cat! He killed your husband’s men at Lannister orders!” Baelish said, his voice becoming raised.

 

 

“You are right, I had my doubts," Lady Stark said. "Even with Clegane’s loyalty I needed more information. After all, I had made mistakes before finding blame were there was none and did not want to repeat my actions.”

 

 

Littlefingers shoulders sagged for a moment and he reached for her mother again.

 

 

Shrugging off his hand, Catelyn Stark look him in the face and said;  “So I asked Ser Barriston.”

 

 

Petyr Baelish was on his feet in a moment.

 

 

“He was there, in the throne room, the day you turned the City Watch against my husband," Lady Stark stood up to face him. "He said you held Ned's own dagger to his neck!  Or did you forget? Did you really believe that the Kingsguard would not report what happened in their presence to their commander? Like when you encouraging Joffrey to ignore his mother's decision to sent my husband to the Wall. You told him he should execute my husband to keep from being seen as having a "woman's heart'?”

 

 

Littlefinger raised his hands in defense

 

 

"Did you think that I would not believe my own daughter who told me of how you took my steward's daughter away, or how you made no move to help her, instead sending a drunk fool to feed her false information!" Arys's mother was practically screaming. "You have deceive me, betrayed my husband, attempted to kidnap my daughter, and let my sister die!"

 

 

To Arya's surprise Littlefinger chuckled; "Cat, you cannot be serious. Ned rebelled against the Queen's father, and you have no evidence I was involved in Lysa's death. Do you think the Crown is going to to stand for your accusations? I am Lord Protector of the Vale. When you accuse me of treason, you are insulting the Lords of a considerably _unspoiled_ portion of the realm.”

 

 

“I am sure the Lords of the Vale will see reason," spat Lady Stark. "Particularly when they learn they are no longer in your debt.”

 

 

She took a step towards him.

 

 

"Did you not think that Lady Waynwood would tell me of events in the Vale since I last saw my sister?"

 

 

 Even from the doorway Arya could see the man jump.

 

 

Lady stark shook her head; "Your arrest for the grievousness you have done against my family would have  been a difficult thing to ask the Queen. That is till she was informed your funny ways with money almost bankrupted the crown."

 

 

Littlefinger dropped his hands and Arya could see his head moving slightly as he tried to find a way out of the room.

 

 

“Did you think the Queen’s Braavosi Master of Coin would not find your scheme buried in your old ledgers?” "continued her mother, her voice dropping in rage.

 

 

When Littlefinger started backing towards the door, Lady Stark exclaimed; "Guards!"

 

 

But instead of the household guards they had brought from Riverrun, it was Unsullied who filed into the room

 

 

_The Dragon Queen knows the part your mother played in helping her rise to power. She has been very generous with requests from your mother and sister._

 

 

Catelyn Stark drew herself up to her full height, her face blotchy with fury.

 

“Seize him.”


	54. The Throne Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fate of Petyr Baelish and Arya asks a boon of the Dragon Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all,
> 
> Sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it! 
> 
> BTW my editing is bad as usual so any help would be appropriated :)

The autumn sun beat down on the red leaves of the Red Keep's godswood, making the canopy appear aflame.

 

 

“Petyr Baelish, you have been found guilty of the murder of Lady Lysa Arryn, conspiring against a major house and embezzlement of the Crown's funds,” the Hand of the Queen declared.

 

 

Tyrion Lannister had returned with the Queen. His little dark haired wife was heavily pregnant and not present at the execution.

 

 

Arya had not been at the dinner where Sansa pleaded for his forgiveness for using him as the scapegoat to cover her escape from Kingslanding. She guessed the drawf had forgiven her sister as he had been very amicable to their family since then.

 

 

 

“The Queen has declared you are to be put to death for your crimes,” Tyrion said his voice was calm, even though his face showed anger. “But instead of death by fire you shall be executed by a member of the Stark household as requested by Lady Catelyn Stark.”

 

 

The thin man was brought before a large stump and made to kneel by two soldiers. Gendry step forward to Lady Stark and presented her with the a long wrapped package. He gently unwrapped the long sword, sheathed in fresh boiled leather adorned with the Stark Direwolf.

 

 

Arya's mother nodded in a approval and gestured to Sandor Clegane. Gendry presented him with the grip.

 

 

Clegane wrapped both hands around the freshly wrapped leather and slowly pulled the newly restored Ice from the sheath.

 

 

Arya once heard that Ice was considered to large to wield in battle, it was to be used for ceremonies and beheadings. She now doubted the assertion of that claim; Clegane looked like he was born to dismember enemies with the great blade.

 

 

"Cat," whispered the thin man. "You were the only woman I ever loved."

 

 

"Clegane?" Lady Catelyn nodded to where Littlefinger lay over the weirwood stump. Her face a frozen mask of indifference.

 

 

Sandor Clegane stepped forward and swung the blade in one graceful arc. It sliced through Baelish's neck like a knife through butter.

 

 

Next to her, Arya heard her sister sigh. As her mother turned to go, her mask slipped and she looked as if a weight had been removed from her shoulders. 

 

 

Lady Stark had explained earlier that she was aware that she should be at the execution but she did not want to see her childhood's friend head on a pike.

  

 

Arya did not notice Sansa's departure as she was distracted by the glitter of light on the steel of her family's sword. The gentle drip of ruby blood did nothing to dim the shimmer of light on the steel. Gendry stepped forward and handed Clegane a rag to clean the blade. He looked over to Arya and gave a broad smile.

 

 

 

"Valyrian Steel" he whispered.

 

 

Arya watched Clegane wipe the blade clean. The metal seemed to have a liquid living surface that ripped in the light as the blood was removed. Clegane must of felt her watching and gave her a hideous smirk before sliding the blade back into its sheath then handed it to Gendry. He then assisted in carrying the body of Petyr Baelish out of the godswood.

 

 

Gendry watched him go before nudging Arya.

 

 

"I have to go back to the forge, can I see you tonight?"

 

 

"I have an audience with the Queen later," she replied. "I would very much like to see you after I'm done."

 

 

Gendry smiled at her, "Just remember to change out of the silly dress your going to have to wear when you address her Grace. I can't take you seriously with all that lace and silk."

 

 

 

Arya playfully kicked his boot before leaving to find where Sansa had gone.

 

***

 

 

Arya barely made it into Maegor's Holdfast before she spotted her sister's hair. Sansa was standing in the shadows of the empty hallway talking with a dark woman surrounded by ladies. The woman looked as if she could have been Dornish if wasn’t for her rich silk dress in the style of Kingslanding.

 

 

Sansa and the woman exchanged words in hushed tones. Arya could see her sister’s face was bloodlessly pale and her eyes where wide at whatever the woman said to her.

 

 

Without warning the dark woman leaned forward and kissed Sansa deeply on the lips. Then she spun on her heel and walked away with a sly smile on her face and her maids trailing behind her. She winked at Arya as she passed.

 

 

Arya stood rooted to the spot unable to comprehend what she had just seen.

 

 

Sansa shook her head and rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand when she spotted her sister.

 

 

“Does Clegane know about that?” Arya hissed as her sister approached.

 

 

"No," Sansa said watching the women fade into the crowded courtyard. "And you are not to say a word of what you just saw to anyone."

 

 

Her sister let out a shaky breath, then turned to Arya.

 

 

"After your audience with the Queen, meet me in the room you follow me to every morning,"  "I will show you what I've been looking for."

 

 

And with that Sansa vanished deeper into the building.

 

 

***

 

 

Arya fidgeted in her heavy silk dress. She had a boon to ask of the Queen, she just wished it was in the privacy of her family’s rooms. Instead she would have to ask her in front of the entire court, including those stragglers or very minor houses who had yet to pledged their loyalties.

 

 

“Ser Percy from house Percy…” was announced by the crier over the general din of milling people.

 

 

Arya wrung her hands. Her stomach clinched.

 

 

_You’ve been through so much worse._

 

 

Arya breathed in through her nose. The line of house representatives was down to the last lord.

 

 

“Ser Edmund from house Black…..”  a booming voice.

 

 

Arya told herself she wasn’t choosing the easy way out. She told herself that this was actually for the good of the country and her mother would eventually approve.

 

 

“….I assure you, Your Grace that this is not a ferret, but my man servant Baldrick…”

 

 

_It would help Rob, it would be good for Gendry, Sansa with her new way of thinking would approve._

 

 

It would defiantly make Clegane laugh.

 

 

Arya was shaken from her thoughts by a booming voice;

 

 

“Her Grace will now hear from those with requests. Lady Arya of House Stark please come forward.”

 

 

The courtiers moved aside so Arya could make her way to the empty space in front of the iron throne and sank into her best curtsy.

 

 

The tiny Queen who had drank wine and shared secrets with her and her sister looked as imposing as her dragons perched high above the court on the massive structure of twisted metal.

 

 

“You may rise, Arya of House Stark,” spoke the Dragon Queen.

 

 

Arya pulled herself upright and looked up; standing to the Queen’s left was Lord Varys, to the right was seated Lord Tyrion.

 

 

Arya took a deep breath;

 

 

“I ask one boon of you, your grace; I wish for myself and Gendry Waters, a blacksmith in my Brother’s employ to be part of an emissary to Qohor to learn the secrets of forging Valyrian steel. I am sure your grace understands the importance of such skills for the future armies of Westeros.”

 

 

Daenerys smiled, her eyes glittering with a knowing look. From beside her, Arya could see Vary’s expression slip into disbelief for a split second.

 

 

“Granted,” the Queen decreed. “In the next year as I secure my Throne, I will send you and…. your friend as part of a diplomatic emissary to Qohor as to learn the secrets of their blacksmiths.”

 

 

Arya spun on her heel and marched away as the next person was called. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Queen of Thorns looking very disgruntled.

 

 

By the door stood Clegane, a horrible twisted smile on his face.

 

 

“Well done wolf-bitch,” he chuckled as she went passed head held high.


	55. Above Kingslanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't want a year to go by without updating. I am not writing on my personal computer so please let me know of any mistakes
> 
> The next chapter should be out in a few days. I promise.

 

It was late afternoon before Arya met her sister in the room with the false wall.

Whatever it was Sansa had been searching for, she had found it. Dressed in a gray gown with a leather breastplate adored with the Stark Direwolf, Arya thought she looked like she was ready to ride to battle, not explore the bowls of Maegor's Holdfast.

  
Arya had changed out of her itchy constricting dress and back into her boys clothes. She didn't see the point of being scolded for getting her good dress dusty.

  
“Did you hear what I asked the queen for?” Arya asked as she approached.

  
Her sister smiled at her. “Yes. You have completely ruined the plans of the Tyrells and Varys. I am proud of you.”

  
Arya beamed; “Really?

  
Sansa pulled her lips off her teeth in a menacing grin; “Oh yes.”

  
“Shall we?” Arya gestured with her thumb into the yawning darkness.

  
“A moment, please,” Sansa said as she lit her lantern.

  
The clink of armor and the sound of dragging echoed down the corridor. Into the room filed a dozen Unsullied armed with axes, ropes, torches and a cart.

  
Arya lifted her eyebrows, “Sansa….?”

  
Her sister waved her to silence and stepped into the darkness.

  
Following the pink chalk arrows, they descended further and further into the inky black, suffocating maze below the tower. Behind them the Unsullied stopped every few meters to wedge torches into the grooves in the walls. Arya tried to catch her sisters attention, confused as to why they weren’t waiting for the torches.

  
“Where are we going?” Arya whispered. The air was stale and burned her throat.

  
Sansa didn’t answer at first. It wasn’t until they stopped in front of a doorway marked with a large pink X did she speak;

  
“A life time ago, Joffrey dragged me into this room and showed me how I was to die.”

Her eyes flashed in the light from her lantern. “I am still alive and he is not.”

  
Sansa signaled to one of the Unsullied who stepped forward and began to hack at the door with his ax till the old wood splintered with a dull crunch.

  
Sansa stepped over the ruins of the door and held her lantern aloft so Arya could see the content of the room.

  
In the middle stood a large wood framed cube. There was a complex pulley system hanging from the top. A long thick rope hung down from the pulley ending in a leather noose.

  
“This is the contraption the Mad King used to strangle Uncle Brandon,” Sansa growled. “Or so Joffrey told me.”

  
Arya felt her stomach drop. She turned to her sister to find her face twisted in rage. “He told me he would wrap that leather noose around my neck and leave me down here if I dared to defy him after Lord Tyrion stopped the Kingsguard from beating me. Then he locked me in here till one of the undergalors from the black cells heard me screaming for help.”

  
Arya couldn’t take her eyes off her sister; what once was the picture of beauty and sophistication now looked like an animal fending off an intruder.

  
Sansa breathed in deep and barked something in Valyrian to the Unsullied who went to work chopping the wood structure apart and hauling the pieces to the surface.

  
Sansa stood as still as a statue, the anger never leaving her face.

  
Arya chewed her lip, focusing on the men taking apart the evil contraption.

  
Worse than Sansa’s story was what she could see in the flickering torch light; along the walls by the door were long scratch marks, as if someone was desperately trying to claw their way out in the dark.

** *

  
The Unsullied loaded the remains into a series of carts and wheeled them out to the courtyard. They dropped the chucks of wood and rope into the bed of a inconspicuous wagon. When they finished they covered the contents with a tarp and the driver put the whip to the backs of two grey mules setting them out into the streets. Four of the Queen’s Dothraki followed on horseback.

In the courtyard Sandor Clegane awaited their appearance as he stood next to a saddled dapple gray mare. Cradled in the crook of her arm was Minisa, his other hand was holding the stirrup so Sansa could mount. Arya’s trusty roan palfrey from the road was saddled, but she mounted herself.

  
Sansa placed her boot in the offered stirrup and gracefully mounted the horse. She leaned over and kissed her husband and child. She put her heels to her horse and rode through the gate without a backwards glance. Arya turned in the saddle as she followed. The burnt side of Clegane’s face twitched as his daughter waved at her mother’s retreating back.

***

They rode through the twisted streets of Kingslanding, finally stopping at the top of a steep hill covered with Cyprus trees and tall scrub oak.

  
Sansa dismounted next to the wagon in a swirl of white silk and red hair. Arya slid from her horse and followed her sister as she walked an overgrown path into a clearing.

  
Sansa stopped in the middle and tilted her head to the sky.

  
“Where are we?” Arya asked as her eyes moved over the crumbling stone of long destroyed walls and piles of old animal bones.

  
Sansa ignored her question.

  
Behind her the wagon pulled into the clearing and the Dothraki began to unload the contents.

  
Arya had watched the horsemen in the practice yard with the other soldiers. They were a proud people and Arya was surprised how they executed this menial task without so much as a grumble.

  
When they were finished the wagon driver rushed his mules away back down the road as fast as he could.

  
The Dothraki held Sansa’s and Arya’s horses and braced themselves for something, turning their eyes to the sky.

  
Arya felt a shiver run up her spine as she lifted her eyes to the clear late afternoon sky.

  
High above circled three small shapes. Slowly they spun closer and closer to the clearing and soon Arya could make out the long necks and wide leathery wings.

  
She tore her eyes from the sight and frantically spun in place taking in the surroundings.

  
Crumbling stone…. Piles of bones…. _Burnt bones_

  
The dragon pit.

  
When she first arrived Arya had seen the dragons flying over the city and fishing out in the bay, but never up close as they roosted in the dragon pit she never saw.

  
The ground lifted under her feet nearly throwing her to the ground when the first dragon landed. It made a purring sound in the back of it’s throat that Arya felt more than heard. The large green beast regarded her with great gold eyes. The white one landed next, closer and peered at her as if it was deciding whether she would go well with Dornish or Arbor wine.

  
For all the other worldliness of the scene, Sansa didn’t twitch or flinch or break her mask of indifference. Arya was debating running, climbing a tree, peeing her breeches or petting the great beasts.

  
For a moment the sun vanished and darkness covered the pit. The ground heaved and Arya fell in the dirt. Behind her the Dothraki were desperately holding the horses as they pranced and screamed in terror.

  
A swirl if grit and dirt momentary covered the ground blocking all sight. When it cleared the giant black dragon crouched in front of Sansa. Never once did she flinch or loose her feet.

  
The great beast was mere meters in front of her sister, and yet Sansa acted as if it was a harmless rabbit even when it snorted at her causing her skirts to swirl and hair to mess.

  
Arya understood why Clegane had chose to stay back at the Keep.

  
From the beast’s back dismounted the Dragon Queen.

  
Daenerys lovingly caressed the dragon’s snout before standing before Sansa.

  
Her sister dropped into a low curtsy, rising only when Daenerys tapped her shoulder.

  
Sansa drew herself up to her full height, towering over the little Dragon Queen.

  
Daenerys reached out and clasped her sister’s hands in hers and looked up into Sansa’s face.

  
A single tear drip slipped down her sister’s cheek. The dragon queen reached up and brushed it from Sansa’s pale face and whispered something to her.

  
Sansa smiled and turned to Arya.

  
“Please come here, my sister.”

  
Arya scrambled to her feet and ran to her sister’s side. Sansa grasped her in her left hand and the hand of the Dragon Queen in her right.

  
Daenerys lifted her head high and spoke.

  
_“Dracarys”_

  
The great black dragon let loose a stream of fire onto the pile of wood and rope.

  
The heap exploded sending a twisting and curling tendril of smoke up to the treetops.

  
The three women held hands watching the smoke till it cleared, reveling only charred ground that had fused into a shiny black glass.


	56. The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the next chapter. There will be a couple more but I can't say when.

 

It was Robb’s stupid cock that inadvertently united the last of the Seven Kingdoms by marriage. Arya had been walking behind Clegane and Dacey up the Serpentine Steps when her brother appeared naked as his name day and running as if the Others were after him.

 

“Excuse me!” he cried as he pushed through the trio and continued out of sight around a twist in the stairs.

 

A heart beat later Ser Loras appeared; his face was red and murder flashed in his eyes.

 

“My brother in arms, I beg of you to assist me in apprehending the man who besmirched my sister’s honor!”

 

Dacey and Clegane stared at Loras for a moment before bursting out in harsh laughter.

 

“You’re barking up the wrong dog, ser,” Dacey chortled. “Have you forgotten how Lady Sansa’s honor faired around your brother at arms?”

 

Ser Loras’s face twisted in rage and he let out a cry of frustration before knocking them aside and chasing after Robb (who by the sounds of shrieks echoing up the steps had made it to the courtyard).

 

“Was that necessary she-bear?” Clegane asked as he and Dacey continued up the stairs.

 

Dacey snicked. “Do not pretend you never had moments were you had to dodge people who would be very unpleasant if they knew what kind of honor besmirching activities you and your lady wife got up to.”

 

“I assure you, we took the utmost care to guarantee that no such incident would occur,” Clegane stated simply before pausing and adding, “Except for that time I had to hide in her wardrobe.”

 

Arya joined in Dacey’s mirth.

 

“Myrish lace is incredibly itchy, I will never understand how those ladies wear that shite,” Clegane stated thoughtfully.

 

***

 

And so it came pass that a moon turns later Robb Stark married Margaery Tyrell in the Great Sept of Baelor.

 

The High Septan had found an ancient law that allowed him to annuel Robb’s marriage to Jeyne Westerling. Arya was pretty sure the custom dated all the way back to the time Olena Tyrell handed the High Septan a huge sack of gold and told him to make it so.

 

Fifty grand ship sailed from Kingslanding to White Harbor a week later. Amongst the fleet where warships taken from the Ironborn and restyled with green and gold sails. Others where carrying fruits, vegetables, seeds as well as craftsmen and building materials to rebuild Winterfell. The Tyrells were particularly interested in the design of a grand glass garden. They had petitioned The dragon queen to bring over Myrish glass workers and Steelworkers from Dorne to build the largest indoor grow house in the world.

 

Clegane disclosed to Arya that she believed the grand structure would be built more to keep the southern Flower warm than to feed the masses.

 

Even with all the pomp and luxury the Reach’s newly out fitted ships could bestow upon Robb’s new bride she and Sansa were sick everyday from the moment they set sail on Blackwater Bay.

 

On the third day Clegane’s shadow blocked out the sun where Arya and Gendry had found a spot amongst the rigging for themselves.

 

Minisa was sitting on his hip clutching at his tunic as the deck rolled beneath him. He tossed a bag of herbs in her direction and snarled; “Do us all a favor and find a woods witch who has more of this when we get to Wintertown.”

 

Clegane then turned on his heel and stomped off. Minisa waved at them from over his shoulder and yelled “Bye bye Aunt Arya!”

 

Gendry tossed the moon tea from one hand to the other.

 

“Mayhaps you should have told him how _I_ secured _you_ and _your sister_ and _Lady Dacey_ plenty of this stuff through some new friends in Kingslanding,” he smirked.

 

Arya smiled at him over her shoulder; “And we are eternally grateful. But never call Dacey Mormont “Lady” to her face unless you want a boot to the balls.”

 

“Do you think your sister is with child again?” Gendry asked as he pulled his tunic back over his head and leaned back against a coil of hemp rope.

 

Arya shrugged. “The way she and Clegane carry on I wouldn’t be surprised.”

 

She snuggled against him, laying her head on his chest. “I’m positive Margaery is. I think Robb is scared it was his fault Jeyne’s belly never swelled and from the noise coming from their cabin he’s trying to prove himself ….” A thought passed through her head making her shiver all over.

 

Clegane’s voice came to her from long ago; _You had a wife, two living brothers and an uncle when we wed!_

 

“What’s wrong?” Gendry sat up nearly knocking her on the deck.

 

Arya sat up with wide eyes.

 

“I don’t matter anymore!” she whispered. “Robb’s married and his wife will bare him sons, Rickon is alive and could marry in five years. Sansa is married and apparently giving Clegane a litter…..” She leaned closer to Gendry; “Dorne is married to the Reach, The Reach is married to the North, the North is married to the Westerlands, the Westerlands are ruled by the Hand of the Queen, and the lord of the Eyrie will be soon be fostered in the Riverlands.”

 

Gendry curled his lip; “Huh?”

 

“That’s why Olenna wanted you to become Lord of Storm's End and us to marry!” Arya laughed. “Then the whole kingdom would be related in case the Queen decided to do something they didn’t like. Daenerys would have to face the entire land, not just one part.”

 

Gendry rolled his eyes. “I told you, I don’t give a fiddler’s fart about being a lord.”

 

Arya tweaked his nose. “Exactly. And I don’t have to be a lady anymore if I chose not to.”

 

"How so?" Gendry asked rubbing his nose.

 

“If anything happens to Robb, his children with Margaery will be Lords of Winterfell. If anything happens to them, Rickon’s family will take over. If anything happens to them, Sansa’s children will become Lords of Winterfell. And nothing is going to happen to Sansa or her children, Clegane wont allow it. Therefore anything I do doesn't matter. I'm the least of the line and can do what I wish!”

 

Gendry shrugged. Arya laid against him once more and signed contently, satisfied in the knowledge that she was getting what she wanted and no one could take it away.

 

Gendry smoothed her hair and spoke; “I think I’m learning to keep up with this highborn scheming. So I have to ask, wouldn’t it make sense to marry you to that little boy from the Eyrie?”

 

Arya’s eyes flew wide. She reached under his shirt to pinch his nipple and twisted till he shrieked.


End file.
